Genesis
by wedgie
Summary: Because everything has to start somewhere… Turtlecest, raphxdon
1. Purple, Getting Over It

**Genesis**

Turtlecest, raphxdon – Because everything has to start somewhere…

Disclaimer: If I owned the turtles, it wouldn't be a kiddie show.

Warnings: turtlecest, yaoi, turtle on turtle action, slash, mature: are you sure you are in the right place? Be weary or your brain might implode.

Chapter One: Purple - Getting Over It

* * *

He loved her. So much. That had to be it, else it would not hurt so much. The pain was unbearable yet he could not call it unique. He experienced similar feelings over the course of some time, always involving her, but never this agonizing. Tonight, it was surely going to kill him, and there was nothing the clever turtle could do to stop it. It was not poison or a physical injury. Those were trivial ailments that dwindled in comparison. This wound, the very breaking of his heart to irreparable pieces was unavoidable, and there was no remedy.

November was trying to strangle him to death with cold, but he barely registered the temperature. Behind him, across the roof and then a building to the right, everyone he held dear to him huddled in a small apartment to congratulate and celebrate. Apparently the atmosphere was not lost without him; just another stab to his delicate state. Actually, he hated to be a bother, but concentrating on something other than his loveless life was difficult at the moment.

Casey and April finally decided to venture towards that final threshold. In the presence of friends and family, the man had proposed and everything went as planned. Michelangelo apparently had a heads up, for he sprung out the "party" supplies as soon as the much awaited "yes" was delivered. _She said yes._ Splinter and Leonardo nodded approvingly, as if both of them were somehow her father. He had asked them. It was obvious. _She actually said yes._ Raphael's frenzied search when they had first arrived finally clicked into the full perspective. Casey had lost the ring and the turtle jumped into action to find it. He would definitely be the best man._ How could she marry ... Casey Jones?_

Apparently Donatello's notice of engagement was lost in the mail. He was as surprised as April when everyone gathered around for the bumbled proposal. They didn't tell him. Casey didn't tell him. His eyes narrowed at the stab in the back he was currently experiencing. Everyone was so happy. _She was so happy._ He stuck out like a sore thumb.

Since he was already frozen with shock, the cold did not do much to earn his contemplation. He wanted to run, get away from everyone currently relishing in his misery, but he only ventured a rooftop over before he plopped down against an edged wall. It was against the rules to run off on his own during the night. Pairs minimum, else Master Splinter would worry. And as much as he wanted to scream, he could not bring himself to do it. So he just sat there, leaning his shell against that walled edge, collecting snow. At least maybe if he was low enough, no one would see him and they would _think_ he ran away. _If anyone cared at all that he was missing in the first place._

Donatello had no idea how long he had been out there. It did eventually dawn on him that he was absolutely freezing. He had not even grabbed his jacket. Perhaps he would have to go back just to escape the cold. Out of the freezing night and back into the frying pan. _Great._ His brain made the plan of action but his body did not move from its current location. He was being stubborn, or at least part of him. Wow, he would rather become a turtle popsicle than face her right now. Yes, he could easily see why he agreed to that arrangement. Her smiling face, lovely laugh, joy-filled eyes. And none of it was for him. All for some lunatic vigilante that never would have met her in the first place had the turtles not intervened. Irony at its best.

He heard footsteps. But he was on a snow covered roof in the middle of the night, so it could only be a small number of possible candidates. It could be the Shredder, coming to put him out of his turmoil. A band of foot soldiers, who would only serve to make him warm again through the motions and adrenalin necessary to send them back on their way. Of course he almost welcomed those two options over who it probably was; one of his brothers coming to drag his chilly bum back to the loft. _Definitely brother_, as had it been one of the first two options, he would have never heard someone coming. His brother was allotting him a courtesy.

He decided to cut his losses and save some face. With a less than energetic push, he raised himself slightly with the help of the wall, as if preparing to stand up. "I'm heading back, Leo. I didn't mean to worry anyone." Donatello prepared his best fake smile and finally looked up to his visitor.

"That's an insult if I ever heard one," a voice much rougher than Leonardo's answered back. Raphael stood directly over his younger sibling, looking down. The older brother sported a jacket, designed to keep a rider warm while riding a motorcycle. He reached out one arm to push Donatello back into a sitting position and tossed a purple toned coat into the turtle's lap. "I know ya don't wanna go back."

"Why do you say that?" Donatello responded innocently. He gratefully unwrinkled his jacket to drape around his freezing self. Raphael's weight plopped down to his side. _Being protective is just embedded_, Donatello thought, as Raphael had chosen to sit to his left, blocking the direction of the wind.

"Dunno." Raphael shrugged. Donatello looked over as his sibling fiddled with whatever else he had brought. He distinctively could hear the light clicking of glass. "Beer?" Raphael finally freed a bottle from its cardboard haven and offered it Donatello.

"No." Donatello stated from habit alone. He had never tried alcohol before. It was one of those unspoken rules from Master Splinter that his hot headed brother always ignored. His self pity and loathing flooded back into focus as he remembered his current predicament. Then he felt guilty that one of his brothers had trudged all the way out here, and he was being very inhospitable. The second he felt the comforting warmth at his side, he immediately decided that he did not want to be alone. And so he cautiously wrapped his hand around that beer as if the bottle would burst in his hand and Raphael let go. He stared at it for a moment, waiting to Raphael to make some crack about how the pure one was about to have his first drink, but nothing came. He was almost disappointed, but then decided that maybe just having a moment 'Raphael style' was better.

Raphael up turned his bottle and it was half empty when he lowered it. Apparently he was really good at this whole alcohol drinking thing. Donatello finally thumbed the lid off of his own bottle. Neither of them felt like talking apparently. This was Raphael, of course. What could he expect?

So what does any scientist do in a new situation? They observe and mimic to the best of their ability. So Donatello threw the bottle back and tilted it upright for his first real swig of alcohol. It was fair to say some of it made it down his throat, but the rest was messily coughed back into the bottle. Raphael could not contain a low snicker. "This stuff tastes like ass." Donatello exclaimed, wiping his mouth with the jacket covering the back of his hand.

Raphael smirked. Donatello continued for the moment on how bad the beer actually tasted. He was about ready to believe ass would actually taste better than the beer. But he took another slow gulp anyway.

"Ya just gotta get used to it." Raphael's voice seemed amused by his younger brother's reaction.

"You can get used to the taste of urine, Raph. That doesn't mean it tastes good." Donatello quipped and then his bottle was empty. Really, it was not as bad as his musing suggested, but complaining kind of felt good at the moment, so he went with it. Raphael made no attempt to stop him. When he was offered another beer, he accepted.

The liquid courage made Donatello feel warm inside. His freezing self approved. He felt better, in a way. An empty better, but none the less his spirits were somewhat lifted. At least the lack of his mopey shell had been noticed, and for one selfish moment, he was astonished and glad. Surprised because it was Raphael who came running to his rescue; happy that at least he was being comforted. Not in a conventional sense of the word, but it was enough for the usually selfless turtle.

On that roof, they sat in silence, each gulping down a mouthful of the bitter booze. When the six-pack Raphael initially brought disappeared, four of those bottles laid to waste at Donatello's feet. Though, before he could begin his disappointment, a second cardboard container made its way from Raphael's side to their shared front side. Donatello helped himself to the soundless invitation and sighed heavily once another swig was achieved.

The night drew further and the second case found itself empty at the feet of the two brothers. Donatello's mind swirled. An instinct quickly fading in the back of his mind told him to hold his feelings in, but the alcohol thought otherwise of the situation. Logic reminded Donatello that spilling his emotional rollercoaster of feelings to Raphael was only going to result in humiliation when the turtle reminds him that he never had a chance. That his best friend was always the only one with a chance with April. He could not risk his feelings being brought to everyone's attention. He would feel like a fool. And yet, the liquor convinced him this was a fantastic idea.

"It hurts, Raph." Donatello spit out, his tongue a bit loosened by tonight's drink of choice. He felt comfortably dizzy, strangely enough. Who thought losing an edge of control would be consoling, but here he found himself.

"Then dun drink it, Donnie." Raphael instinctively reached for the bottle in Donatello's hand, but Donatello moved it out of harm's way.

"No. Not the beer." Donatello sighed again. He had to remember this was Raphael he was dealing with, not someone with any kind of insight.

And Donatello suddenly thought it strange that it was Raphael who rushed to his side. It would not be surprising in any other situation, but this was an emotional issue. A territory he envisioned Raphael never once exploring. The turtle would not simply understand.

Raphael had nothing to say to that. Instead, he fidgeted a moment, as if trying to gain the right words, but nothing elegantly flowed. With further hesitation, he patted Donatello on the shoulder twice. A second later, he rested his arm completely around his little brother and gripped him as reassuringly as he could muster.

Donatello enjoyed the embrace. An exceptional feeling uplifted in his mind, realizing what special treatment he was getting from the brother he least expected it from. Even if he knew Raphael had no idea why he was out there, at least he was willing to be there anyway.

It was not awkward, as Donatello would have imagined it a few days prior. Raphael was actually very calming. As he leaned heavier on his brother to further avoid the head spins.

"I know ya feel like shit n' all, Donnie." Raphael cleared his throat. "We. Me n' you n' Mike n' Leo…" Raphael's fingers restlessly tapped on Donatello's shoulder as he gathered his words. "We aren't meant ta _be_ with people, ya know?"

Donatello's features tensed up. _Did Raphael know what was happening? How could Raphael possibly understand the situation at hand?_ A defensive nerve was struck as the turtle turned to stare daggers at his brother. But had he actually seen himself, his daggers fell short behind half-mast eyes, thanks to the hefty handful of beers he downed.

Raphael just slightly adjusted himself and ignored the stare. He peered at something across the roof as if it really held his interest.

And the defense was over. Of course Raphael understood. If anyone in this family comprehended the hardship of uncontrollable emotions, it was Raphael. And, for a moment, Donatello pitied the turtle who stepped out of his natural element of callousness to comfort his lonesomeness.

A veil of discomfort lifted when Donatello lost his most trusted secret. A hundred questions followed, but he did not bother turning into an inquisitor on his brother. But his tongue loosened. Donatello was no longer fearful of what he might accidentally say. He felt more and more inclined to share his insight with his present company. Why did he hold it in, in the first place? His swimming brain forgot.

"Why him." Donatello moaned, his voice slightly slurring. He sounded tired, but he was wide awake. That was odd.

"They're good ta-gether." Raphael replied. His voice was as soft as he could probably manage. "An' you're not a human, Donnie." Raphael painted the picture exactly how it was.

Logic, for once, was not Donatello's rescue. Tonight, it evaded him. "I'ma good guy, Raph." Donatello fortified his feelings to the choir. "If she gives me the chance, I can show her tha- -"

"You got a good brain, Donnie. So think about what you're sayin." Raphael did not sound annoyed. He was trying very hard to be supportive. Donatello appreciated this greatly, whether or not her realized it. "April's a great gal, right? She's our friend. Our family." Raphael checked to make sure his younger brother was still listening.

"Yes." Donatello nodded upon seeing Raphael's curiosity to his attention. He even through in a nod. He was listening; he was also feeling mighty different than ever before. He'd blame it on lovesickness, but when his toe knocked over an empty bottle into a patch of snow, he thought otherwise.

"April's great n' she deserves the best, Donnie." Raphael said with a serious undertone. "Casey can give 'er love n' devotion n' all that crap." Raphael then brought his point home. "…n' kids, Donnie."

That one stung. On the giant list of things Donatello could never offer April as a lover, it was a future full of children. Donatello grimaced at the reminder.

"They can have a normal life, Donnie." Raphael sugar coated his words the best he could. "An' of course she still loves us. Ain't nothin' gonna change." Raphael found this comforting, but Donatello had other ideas about the how the lack of change would feel.

Raphael, infamously known for not being able to stand the silence, tried his hand again. "Ya know, last time I ran out, I got surface restriction for two weeks." Raphael attempted to lighten the mood.

Donatello recognized Raphael's attempt to change the subject and decided to go with it. "You didn't come home for two days, Raph." Donatello pointed out. "And you still went out after you were grounded."

"Nah, Donnie." Raphael interrupted. "I wasn't grounded. Kids get grounded."

"You were grounded, Raphie." Donatello retorted with his first real smile of the night. "Not that it stopped you." There was a hint of admiration behind that accusation. He sensed it immediately.

"Well Mastah's gonna go easy on you, I bet." Raphael referred to Donatello's skipping out and 'running off.'

Donatello shrugged. "I did not break any rules." Donatello felt as though he was telling on himself to Raphael, the rebel, instead of clearing his name of any slanderous activity. "I'm not alone." He added. Boy did he feel drunk saying that cheesy line.

"Heh." Raphael gave his brother a quick tug before preparing to stand. Donatello must have brought him to his limit of mushy-brother-bonding. "It's gettin' late, Donnie. Bout time we got your drunk ass to bed."

"I'm not drunk." Donatello said as he pushed himself up, and immediately fell back on the roof in his sitting position. The realization that he was feeling the effects made him half-heartedly laugh. The lightheaded sensation when Raphael pulled him to a standing position almost made him fall back down.

"Yur toasted." Raphael waved his hand in front of his brother's face like a drunk-o-meter.

Donatello took a few steps and the effects really started to kick in. From his stagnant position, he felt only tipsy, but once his body was in motion, he could feel the warmth spreading all over, making his choice of words and actions a bit harder to control.

"We're takin' tha stairs." Raphael gently pushed his brother's shell towards the fire stairs adjacent to the building they occupied. "Dun make any racket, we gotta get home in one piece or we're both dead."

And Donatello lightheartedly enjoyed the journey home as he experienced, for the first time, what it was like to be out of complete control of what was happening. It was not so bad. Practically relaxing. Maybe Raphael would be open to the appeal of a drinking buddy.

Raphael held his arm tightly as they descended down the stairs. For a moment, Donatello lifted his head dreamily.

"I could get used to this."

* * *

Holy hell, is she putting up another story? NO way.

..BTW: Genesis means beginning. I know it's the first book of the bible or whatever, but I have always really liked the word. I am in no way referencing the bible.

And by the way, Kristee - I told ya it would take me a LONG time to write this. ^_^


	2. Red, The Morning After

**Genesis**

Turtlecest, raphxdon – Because everything has to start somewhere…

Disclaimer: If I owned the turtles, it wouldn't be a kiddie show.

Warnings: turtlecest, yaoi, turtle on turtle action, slash, mature: are you sure you are in the right place? Be weary or your brain might implode.

Chapter 2: Red - The Morning After

* * *

Donatello rarely showed up tardy for training. It was hard to be late when your bedroom door was twenty feet from the mat, though. Somehow, the turtle found the energy to emerge from his dark bedroom. Just as Leonardo was leaving the practice room to fetch the missing brother, Donatello's form finally staggered in, dragging his bo behind him like a child would a security blanket.

And Raphael's heart dropped. The poor turtle was experiencing his first hangover. It did not look like his brother was handling it well, either. Donatello's eyes were droopy and his entire body seemed to sag. Quietly the genius towed himself into the dojo, somehow thinking he was going to make it through a day's practice. Raphael knew otherwise.

Raphael nudged the brother beside him quietly, knowing Michelangelo would have something to say about the poor exhibit of health.

"You don't look so great, Donnie." Michelangelo pointed out, hoping his attention to Donatello's physical condition would cause Leonardo to react and send him back to bed. What happened was quite the opposite.

Donatello instinctively looked up at his baby brother, mouthing the words that he would be okay, yet no voice followed. It was enough to get Michelangelo to smile, though. Donatello cleared his throat and looked back down at the floor, all as Leonardo passed him without one curious glance.

"Donatello, defend. Mikey, attack." Leonardo's voice was full of authority as always, ignoring Michelangelo's comment as if he had not noticed Donatello acting any differently. "Raphael, defend." And Leonardo readied an attack stance. The turtle seemed to be agitated by the late start, and ready to make up lost time.

Donatello was floored and out before Leonardo even unleashed his attack on Raphael. It almost caused for a distraction, but Raphael deflected the ninja's foot at the last second, twisting it to the side to avoid further harm. Their dance went on a few seconds longer before Leonardo had Raphael pinned securely to the mat.

"Keep your dirty habits to yourself, Raph." Leonardo threatened Raphael in a low voice, and they both knew what he was talking about.

Raphael rolled his eyes. The atmosphere was tense, and Raphael felt right at home. The moment he entered the dojo this morning, he knew Leonardo was well aware something was different. Though Raphael had not seen his older brother the night before, he would never doubt for a second the turtle was not playing Leonardo the spy, wondering when the irresponsible one would return Donatello back home. At least, Raphael thought, Leonardo was blaming him.

Raphael instinctively looked over to Donatello who was hunched over against the wall now, actually trying to verbally comfort a semi-frantic Michelangelo, who was worried he hit too hard. Donatello peacefully put his arms up as Michelangelo jumped around him. All the genius really wanted was silence, as Michelangelo's higher pitched apologies stung his sensitive eardrums.

Raphael turned back to Leonardo. "Butt out, Leo." Raphael struggled to regain control of the grapple, but to no avail.

Leonardo hopped up flawlessly onto his feet and retook his position at the front of the room. He beckoned for Michelangelo to follow. "Again."

Like an instant replay, Donatello hit the ground once more, and Raphael found himself sidetracked. Quicker than before, he was pinned under Leonardo, who gave an even more annoyed impression this time.

"You both need to focus." Leonardo ushered for the exercise to start once more. There was a hint of something more in his bossy tone, and he concealed it well. Raphael still noticed.

Raphael glimpsed over to Donatello, who, for a moment, seemed to struggle to get back on his feet. Michelangelo offered his assistance and treated Donatello as delicately as the turtle could handle. Guilt took over, as this was going to be Donatello's worst practice session ever experienced.

The hothead growled. He should have limited his brother's access to the beer. _Duck_. After all, Donatello had never experienced alcohol or its effect before and therefore had zero tolerance towards the effects. _Kneel_. Raphael had simply forgotten what it was like to be so vulnerable to the booze. _Swipe._

_Thud_. Raphael hit the mat and another aggravated sigh followed. A quick glance up and he saw Leonardo was growing irritated, too. There was absolutely no chance for a quiet morning.

"This is not acceptable, you two." Leonardo bounced up with the utmost perfection. He looked in Donatello's direction with cold eyes. "Don, you'd be dead if someone caught you like this." Leonardo bluntly pointed out the evident. "Alcohol is a depressant. It slows you down, tightens your muscles. Loosens your grip on the abilities you should be more than capable of performing."

Donatello seemed absolutely floored that Leonardo knew what he was experiencing. Shock swam all over the poor turtle's features. It was a completely different story for Raphael, though. Raphael learned long ago that you cannot sneak certain ailments past Ol' Fearless. The guy was like a ninja stalker. It was like at any given moment he could meditate and see every exact mistake his brothers ever performed, like a psychic technique. It was maddening.

Raphael grunted and put his head back on the mat. _…and now Leonardo was in full fledged lecture mode_, he thought. Maybe the next time he wanted to be a good brother, he would put that thought on hold.

_Good brother… _Actually, he had been a pretty terrible brother. He gave Donatello alcohol, fully knowing it would not solve his problems. He flat out told Donatello that he and April would never have a chance to be together. Made Donatello feel horrible this morning with that hangover, and could easily take credit for Leonardo being so ticked off at both of them. What an asshole brother he turned out to be.

"And Donatello, I'm much more astounded at your behavior…" Leonardo continued his rant that Raphael was more than happy to tune out. Raphael was pretty sure he just missed his portion of the rant, a pleasant surprise. He glanced over at Donatello though, who was playing an entirely different tune. The turtle looked ashamed and fearful, as if Leonardo's lecture actually packed a punishment. But this still stung Raphael deep in his gut. He'd prefer to have the wrath of Leonardo aimed in his direction, not his little brother that didn't know any better. The guy only stepped out of line once, and Leonardo was railing him hard.

_I should'a paid attention._ Raphael silently cursed himself, seeing Donatello put a hand to his head as Leonardo kept talking.

"Get off 'is nuts, Leo." Raphael pushed himself up off the floor finally. "We both know it ain't his fault." Raphael cracked his neck as if preparing for a physical battle instead of verbal.

Leonardo redirected his lecture towards Raphael's portion of the room. That was a relief for Raphael, as he was much more inclined to take the verbal beating. "…you're selfish, and now do you intend to drag your little brother down with you? Down this path of destruction you are so bent on descending?"

Raphael felt a personal jab and huffed. "He ain't hurt. Get off yer pedestal an' give the guy a break." Raphael did his best to keep his cool. The boiling point was building, though. This was not exactly his strong point and Leonardo was starting to poke at a sensitive area.

"How drunk were you, Raph?" Leonardo uncrossed his arms. "Look at you today. You are barely paying attention; hardly defending, if I can call your performance a defense. How could you have possibly been able to protect him last night? You could have been killed. Donatello could have been killed."

Donatello's voice piped up but Raphael eagerly overrode him. Leonardo pushed that button. "Screw yourself, Leo." Raphael started storming up into Leonardo's personal space. "Donnie ain't gonna get hurt when I'm around." Raphael narrowed his eyes. There was a challenge in his voice; a dare begging Leonardo to have Donatello floored just one more time.

Leonardo didn't blink. "Not if you're on another binge, counting on someone to drag your useless shell back home." Leonardo's eyes flared with the thought of one of his brothers being put in such a dangerous situation.

No doubt the circumstance was on its way to a grand escalation, except a quiet cough from behind derailed it entirely. Everyone turned to their father, who stood in the doorway, quite curious from all the noise erupting from the dojo.

"My sons. Is this how you wish to spend your valuable time? Arguing does not strengthen your body. Or your mind." Splinter offered his advice. His age practically hung onto each word he annunciated, but tranquility did as well.

"No, Sensei." Leonardo respectfully took a few steps back from Raphael, placing himself once again at the head of the classroom. "Donatello, out." Leonardo motioned for Donatello to move to the wall. The sickly turtle braced himself against it before sliding down to the bottom. "Michelangelo, with me." And Leonardo prepared to tag team one brother with the help of the other.

Raphael gave Donatello a quick look over before he readied his defense. His concentration returned. One deep breath later, he was kicking Michelangelo out of the air while simultaneously avoiding Leonardo's pounce. Michelangelo flew back into the wall and decided to stay down. _Good boy._

Leonardo lunged at his brother, followed by a series of attacks, but Raphael had regained his focus. Each attack was deflected, and actually countered with one of his own. The impacts of his fists were harder than usual. The kind of hard he would usually beat his punching bag with, when he had this much rage stored. But for the moment, Leonardo would have to do.

_He would never hurt his brother. Never put him in danger. A situation he knew he could not control._ Another fist punch Leonardo square in the jaw. _Never_. Raphael felt the force from behind and he plummeted to the floor, suddenly, under the weight of his youngest brother.

"I'm king of the Raph!" Michelangelo happily shouted, as he stood there, one foot on his brother's shell and the other firmly planted on the ground for some real support.

Still, with Michelangelo's half hearted pin, he grabbed for Leonardo's ankle, and had the turtle tumbling down with him.

A stumbled push and rollover later, he found himself pinning the eldest to the ground, completely ignoring Michelangelo's attacks to his shell and undefended areas. His revenge felt better than swapping the half-hearted attacks of Michelangelo.

The match was over. And Raphael triumphantly shot Leonardo a cocky smile as he pulled himself off of the grounded turtle.

"Raphael." Splinter's calm but professor-like voice filled his ears. "You must mind _all_ enemies."

Raphael's head slightly bowed to his master as a sign of respect of his words. Leonardo stood up in the background. He never acknowledged the strength behind Raphael's "defense," or the welts that were starting to throb where Raphael hit him. The three ninja instinctively lined up in front of their master, who was now a few steps into the dojo from the door.

"Disperse until your evening practice." Their master calmly said, most likely sensing the situation was too uptight to continue. All three ninja bowed their heads respectively. Donatello did so from the wall he now resided. "And Donatello, I wish for you to regain your health." Their master said as a loving father. He slowly turned towards his other son, acknowledging that Donatello was not forgotten.

Raphael internally smirked. Maybe their father had grown wiser in his old age, realizing his sons had the power to do as they pleased. Or maybe he was right, that Donatello would avoid punishment because he had simply stepped out of his element for one night.

And then there it was.

"I would like to see you when you are well."

* * *

I totally have a good half of this story written, and my momentum is not stopping. I'm pretty excited to be interested in writing again. I won't poop out on this one, like i did "Uninvited," I promise. Seriously, I totally had a plot lined up for "Uninvited" and then I completely forgot it after I published the first chapter. ^_^


	3. Purple, Rebound

**Genesis**

Turtlecest, raphxdon – Because everything has to start somewhere…

Disclaimer: If I owned the turtles, it wouldn't be a kiddie show.

Warnings: turtlecest, yaoi, turtle on turtle action, slash, mature: are you sure you are in the right place? Be weary or your brain might implode.

Chapter 03 – Purple, Rebound

* * *

Donatello swiveled in his chair, as if he was actually uninterested with this week's round of experiments and inventions. This was prime time for him to get some work done. Practice was over, Leonardo and Raphael were not causing a scene, and Michelangelo had a brand new stack of comics to occupy his time.

He tried to pull a particularly appealing design model up to the front of his to-do list, but not even his attempts at entertainment were working. Perhaps he was just bored. Of course, that was simply not possible. But he found himself having issues concentrating on the work before him. He could only assume he was still depressed over April and her longing to marry a caveman.

But then why did he not pine over those thoughts?

There was no longer a stinging impairment seizing his heart. Strange.

Weeks had passed since the incident and everything seemed to be operating as normal. Leonardo and Raphael were safely avoiding each other, a peaceful solution for them when they were not bickering. Michelangelo was enjoying the serenity between the two oldest as well, as a chance to annoy Raphael for some attention. That put those two knuckleheads at "three minutes to midnight," so to speak.

Donatello's only strange occurrence was his alone time with his father over the events that transpired during April's engagement party. Truthfully, it seemed his father had not the slightest idea why his son would leave all through the festivities. Let alone, two. His father did not pry. And Donatello chose to keep that information to himself. The idea that Raphael was the most emotionally insightful person in the household was almost uncanny, and he decided that information was too valuable to share. And that was the strange thing about that day. Rather than divulge open heartedly with his father upon his troubles and new understandings, he basically closed up, kept to simple discussion, and sat at their afternoon tea in mostly awkward silence.

As for the alcohol and poor practice performance, he got off with a warning. It was a firm rule that alcohol would only serve against their safety, and thus Master Splinter preferred they stay away from it. Somehow, over the years, Raphael became immune to this rule, for he was not called in for lecture. To Donatello's knowledge, anyway.

As maturing adults, their father had no choice but to allow them to make their own decisions, no matter how much he disagreed. But Donatello was happy to declare his interest in alcohol had only decreased since that night during their little chat. It was safe to say his father had nothing to worry about and that being said seemed to grant his father the reassurance he had been searching. As subtly as Donatello could muster, he also did his best to clear Raphael's name as the culprit.

It was true. The alcohol did him no good. But he did not find himself regretting the night he spent with Raphael on that rooftop. The conditions were awful. He was sad, drunk, and freezing, but it stuck out as one of the most memorable events in the past few months. Possibly years. The bonding with his brother would have been worth it.

…had any of it actually mattered.

Everything being normal meant that he and Raphael went back to barely speaking. Well sincerely, he had never thought about it before. What did they really have to talk about? Donatello did machines. Raphael preferred hitting things. Technology versus old school methods. Brains versus brawn. It was quite intriguing, really. It was as if Donatello had clandestinely been avoiding the violent side of Raphael, thus missing his brother's other traits without even noticing. And Donatello was genuinely sad that he never really thought of how different they were before.

Donatello twirled a pen between his fingers as he thought of the interactions he and Raphael had over the years. When it came to teams, it was always Donatello and Michelangelo that held the peace, cooked, and banded together when instant groups had to be formed. He supposed that was the natural team split. Michelangelo and Donatello, Leonardo and Raphael. Donatello could keep the youngest focused and Leonardo kept Raphael in line.

Donatello and Leonardo always looked to the safety of others, supported the logical approaches to problems and issues, and worried the most. It was a close second, because there were so many issues Michelangelo and Raphael plainly had no interest in contributing.

Raphael and Donatello… well, they sometimes built things together. Until Raphael thought Donatello was being too technical and stomped away. Sometimes Raphael would break things and Donatello would then shoo him elsewhere. Or from time to time they would actually be getting along just fine and then Michelangelo showed up in need of entertainment, so he would steal Raphael away. From him.

The thought caused his nose to twitch.

'Over the years' was too general. Concentrating on the recent, he thought back to that night on the roof, and the morning after. Something strange happened that morning, he had to admit to himself. He felt so dreadful. His first, and hopefully last, hangover nearly killed him, Donatello was sure of it. (Donatello noted an obvious exaggeration before moving his thoughts forward.) And Leonardo had been pretty merciless. It was his job to lead and teach tough love. But the guy can still be a jerk sometimes.

Donatello shook his head at the memory. He still loved Leonardo, but the guy should go drink himself into a predicament so he knew what he's dealing with, before he lashed out punishments. At least Donatello was avenged. Raphael's over bearing aggression could not go unnoticed by anyone. The hothead left sizable bruises on Leonardo that night that the proud turtle would not allow Donatello to examine.

A warm sensation occupied Donatello's stomach as he thought about that day. It brought back the memory of the same feeling he had, that he had warded off as part of the hangover.

He caught himself smiling.

And he blinked in curiosity and tumbled back into reality.

Below, over the scribbles of notes Donatello had prepared for the repair and upgrade of Raphael's speed combustor, he received a confusing message. In his own hand, none the less.

Several turtles with red bandanas were doodled across the page. Some more intricate than others, and some with the craftsmanship of a two year old, all drawn by him. Donatello flip-flopped two pens he currently had at his disposal. Black and red. Well his color choices were easily explained.

And he groaned at the idea that he was developing a bad habit. Doodling was more Michelangelo's forte, but here he found himself, completely willing to ruin his notes in a blind daze. It was rather upsetting.

Donatello rolled his eyes and flung his chair back. An obnoxious pressure was building behind his eyes. He was almost tempted to look if something really heavy was actually resting on his shoulders. There was an issue to tackle at hand, he felt it. He thoughtfully reviewed his brain's processes and suddenly discovered his problem.

Yes, he was still depressed by Casey's proposal. It was frustrating to think that gorilla of a man could win over his cognitive abilities. Appearance being the only thing separating him from what he wanted. Of course he was mad.

So angry, he could… care less.

And Donatello slumped in his chair. Were his feelings not love? Did he miscalculate his concern for his human companion? The thought of himself not infatuated over April was almost more disturbing than the idea of idolizing her for the rest of eternity, a vow he had made several months ago; as if he was insulting her and the capability of his own capacity to care. How could such an intense mind-set just disappear? He would have, and wanted, to give anything and everything to be with her, and now he's simply fine with the whole ordeal.

And a line from that night sounded off in his head as if on cue, _April's great and she deserves the best._ Raphael had told him that. And he was right. Donatello could never give her all that she deserved. He was completely willing to thwart his happiness. For hers.

And a calming sensation flew through his body. He was happy for her. And happy to be happy for her. Donatello twirled his chair twice as if in celebration and eagerly pushed himself back up to his desk to finish his project.

…

Then why was he finding it so difficult to concentrate? Donatello fought the urge to doodle more ridiculous turtles on his precious work sheets.

The love of his life was marrying a buffoon, yes. But Donatello was happy. He felt happy. His world was at peace. There was nothing burdening him on the surface. And yet his mind still felt torn.

'Love' just had a weird ring to it, today. But it did sound ridiculous to call her the 'really liked of his life.' He dispersed the random thought.

The turtle stared at the project, lines meshing together in his vision. And he was starting to grow annoyed. Donatello wanted nothing more at the moment than to present this finished piece to Raphael in a timely matter, and yet something was distracting him.

Donatello did not want to disappoint his brother, and so he decided to wade through his emotional mess and make this happen, no matter what. Finishing the bike part became his number one concern.

Donatello delicately pulled out a leveling tool to get the job done and quietly spoke to himself.

"He'll be so happy."

* * *

More build up, yay.


	4. Purple, Taking Control

**Genesis**

Turtlecest, raphxdon – Because everything has to start somewhere…

Disclaimer: If I owned the turtles, it wouldn't be a kiddie show.

Warnings: turtlecest, yaoi, turtle on turtle action, slash, mature: are you sure you are in the right place? Be weary or your brain might implode.

Chapter Four – Purple, Taking Control.

* * *

The lights switched off and Donatello cautiously cut his way to his bed through the pitch black darkness. He had to admit that usually the task would be much more difficult, but his floor was not littered with a week's worth of inventions tonight. That thought only brought another eerie wave of discomfort for the turtle.

Donatello sighed as he placed his head on his pillow, turning the digital clock beaming green LED lights into his skull to a more appealing angle. It was not even midnight yet, which was a feat for the turtle usually toiling into the early hours of the morning on his schematics. But alas, the body was tired, and the mind was unwilling to continue.

The last project took longer than it should have, but Raphael was pleased with his gift and excited to test it out. Donatello actually received an authentic smile for his efforts. That alone made his forced labor worth the brain freezing agony. It had been a long time since such a simple task took him an entire week to complete. But it was definitely worth it.

_It was a strange week_, Donatello recalled, as he got more comfortable under his blankets. He hated that something was still bothering him, buried somewhere in his subconscious. But he had never been in love or fallen out of love before, so this was unfamiliar territory. All that he could think to do was to wait it out and let "time heal all wounds." So he was finally willing to go the course until his brain was cured.

Even if he had to force feed it science projects to continue being a productive member of the household. Not that the absence of his projects would really affect the family's lifestyle. Donatello would just rather all seemed quiet on his front, rather than send up a neon flag that something was bothering him.

Donatello turned towards his wall and stared blankly as his eyes completely adjusted to the dark room. And there, he saw the outline of April's face, slowly fading into existence as his eyes adjusted from the sudden darkness. He paused to realize something. The entire week, he maybe thought about her three times. Twice, being when there were discussions in the lair about the upcoming wedding and the other was just added for estimation purposes.

From everything he read, there was nothing about completely forgetting the object of one's desire directly after the confrontation. Of course, there was no confrontation; he just used the engagement as the signal for an end to their chances for a relationship. It made surfing the web for advice a lot easier.

Carelessly, he tore some of the picture as he removed it from the wall. It was an accident, but not one he was particularly concerned about. Perhaps her happiness cured his torment?

His mind really felt like the entire situation created a blanket of numbness over his mind. Like the things he was supposed to feel just simply were not getting in or out of his head. It was an absurd thought with no scientific backing, but perhaps Donatello had finally learned one of his defense mechanisms he did not know he had.

Or was he just bottling up something he was waiting until her picture perfect wedding to unleash?

Donatello rolled his eyes and nonchalantly put her picture in the drawer next to his bed. He twisted back and sighed again, wondering if he would get any sleep tonight. So far, his mind had been pretty uninterested in how much sleep his body really needed to function like a normal turtle. Soon after he resettled, Donatello willingly left his mind to wander.

And he found himself back on that roof with Raphael, just not nearly as cold. The service of memories is that they tend to remove the uncomfortable parts, and he appreciated that right now. He would hate to feel cold in his nice, cozy bed. Still, a kind of lightheadedness filled his skull as he recalled the event. He blamed it once more on the memory of being intoxicated. Apparently alcohol had quite the effect on the turtle.

Donatello naturally smiled. Raphael was there for him, and knew he was hurting. It was so strange to see Raphael come to his rescue. Well in a battle, that would have been much more of a reality, but this? An emotional train wreck? No, it should have been Michelangelo, feeding him false "It'll be okays" and "Don't sweat it, dudes." Or Leonardo coming to tell him to fall in line or he would catch his death in the winter snow.

Raphael should have been there to kick his shell for being such a wimp. Not to throw a supporting hand over his shoulder and shield him from the freezing wind.

It was so comfortable, though, sitting there with Raphael. Donatello by no means actually remembered how much time passed. i_Another glorious effect of alcohol_. /i And Raphael never lost patience with him. Never got bored with him. He sat there like a loyal brother, and even discussed issues with him like he was not a hopeless romantic for having them. It was a refreshing moment for Donatello. He was glad it happened.

His heart grew warm at the thought of Raphael being such a caring brother. Raphael had to try extra hard to pull that sort of support off, and there he was, arm firmly around his shoulders, making sure Donatello safely within his grasp. Raphael had patted him reassuringly, letting him know that he was not alone, and he appreciated it more than life itself. His memories filled him with such a happy warmth that he felt as though he no longer needed his blanket.

Snapping back from memory lane, Donatello felt an uncomfortable stiffness in his plastron. _Well, I am part human_, he thought, almost blushing to himself. And as part human, there were certain problems that he had to take care of when they arose.

Donatello routinely moved his hand southward towards the bottom of his plastron, as if he had done this a thousand times. _I have done this a thousand times,_ Donatello thought sheepishly. Gently, he urged himself to emerge, and he did so on mental command. His face was now blushing, cheeks warm from the attention he gave his erection. He slowly rubbed the soft flesh, up and down, until it filled out to full attention.

With precise movement, Donatello moved his hand over his shaft, sometimes fast and sometimes slow, enjoying every variation he made. He did not even remember the last time he pleasured himself; it was certainly some time ago. But that did not matter now, as he switched hands to change the feel.

Usually, Donatello, and just about any male, just went through the task of getting it over, since there was nothing contributing to spark his interest. But tonight felt different, like he was really into it. His body was growing hot and he was quite enjoying himself.

On that roof, Donatello still felt just as hot, despite the stagnant snow around him. He felt it should be melting, but it remained. And that strong arm around him started to rub his shoulders. A gentle hand caressed his neck. The brush almost felt accidental. Everything felt so different when he did not feel alone. He always wondered what it would be like with someone else trying to make him feel so good.

His memory sunk into his motions in a fluid manner. A free hand rubbed gently over his thigh causing him to stir. It gracefully twirled down and up, and then far down and tickled his tail. Donatello shivered. Suddenly, as his mind would have it, it was not his own hand pumping his body, but someone else's, trying hard to please him. And he loved it.

Donatello seeped in and out of fantasy until his actions stirred his imagination fully flexed. Then, as far as he knew, he was back in November, and the harsh cold air was being forced away by a powerful body heat radiating near him. It felt so good. He wanted to be closer to that heat and absorb it all, so that he would never be cold again.

His hands, no longer his, wandered curiously across his plastron and softer points. Occasionally alternating, one hand would stroke while the other gently rubbed sensitive flesh. His body responded like never before, urging the show of affection to continue as he mumbled into his pillow.

He heard a voice, not his, begging him to continue. And he did so hastily. His neck was warm and clammy now; his hot breathe felt clingy as it hit cool air. Donatello's entire body rocked along with his movements, throwing everything he had into his rhythm, and he felt a low rumbling in his throat that caused a quiet churr to erupt.

Donatello groaned as he felt himself seeping out of control of the situation. What a reviving feeling. The alcohol was one thing, but the idea of someone else being part of and taking control of such an intimate session made him feel amazing. He panted freely, curving above his pillow, as he felt himself nearing his climax.

And Donatello suddenly gasped and stopped his frenzied actions, shock washing over his body as he realized he was masturbating to his brother.

* * *

Short, but sweet? =oD


	5. Red, Blur

**Genesis**

Turtlecest, raphxdon – Because everything has to start somewhere…

Disclaimer: If I owned the turtles, it wouldn't be a kiddie show.

Warnings: turtlecest, yaoi, turtle on turtle action, slash, mature: are you sure you are in the right place? Be weary or your brain might implode.

Chapter 5 – Red: Blur

* * *

Raphael slammed the refrigerator much harsher than necessary, but there was no one around to scold him. Nonchalantly, the turtle flipped back the cap on the white gallon jug of orange juice and lifted it up to pour into his open mouth.

Rarely did the four brothers and their father get decent alone time, especially in the main living area of their home. They were simply in too close of quarters for there to be ample space for everyone to move about comfortably as they pleased, at least in Raphael's opinion. But tonight was just one of those lucky nights. He took another swig of orange juice, directly from the bottle, guilt free. No grossed out Michelangelo, or lecturing stare from Leonardo. No concerned stare from his master wondering why he could not simply go through the effort to obtain a glass like the rest of him.

He supposed Donatello never really reacted to his habits, come to think of it. He could recall many an eye roll from the others, though all of Leonardo's stares pretty much meshed together in his head. But Donatello simply never paid attention to the little things, he supposed. It was all about the big picture with him, and that masterpiece was not going to be disrupted by Raphael drinking out of the orange juice container.

As rare as this night was, he had no plans to use it properly. Or maybe he was using it just fine, lingering about the lair like a bored house cat, rummaging through the fridge ad cabinets, and generally enjoying the peace and quiet.

Raphael glanced up at Leonardo's bedroom door, and it was completely closed, an uncommon sight. Leonardo called his evening early, and did not appear to be hovering like a blood thirsty mosquito past lights out, as per usual. Raphael could only assume that he had finally achieved the greatest rank of all in his seemingly never ending battle with Leonardo, the curfew Nazi: _The Bad Influence_. As long as Raphael "only brought himself down" these last few weeks, it was as if Leonardo just turned away from some of the activities he used to condemn. A blessing or a curse? Well that was simple.

Letting Donatello drink himself into a stupor turned out to be his liberation. Who knew?

Raphael went as far as to completely finish off the jug with a deeply satisfied "ahh." And there was no one to relish in his victory over the empty container. What a wonderful feeling.

The red masked brother then turned his attention across the room towards the youngest turtle's room. The door was closed, but a light shined through the bottom crack. Michelangelo turned in earlier than usual, too, as their father has television rights on Monday evening. Sitting around watching the catch-phrase heavy sitcoms was not Michelangelo's idea of fun these days. Raphael could picture his baby brother now, lavishly lying out upon a hefty mound of comic books, as if they were a pile of hundred dollar bills. The light still shined, either because the baby was just too lazy to hit the switch, or the twenty year old turtle was still afraid of the dark.

The two shoji-style doors on the bottom floor, signifying Master Splinter's quarters, were closed. His father was sound asleep, it being way past eight o'clock. Raphael chose not to linger on the thought, as it was uncomfortable to acknowledge his old man was sleeping longer and longer these days.

Raphael fought the urge to look at Donatello's room. He knew the door was closed, so no reason to verify. He remembered earlier in the day when Donatello surprised him with a new combustor for his bike. Leonardo disapproved because it was made to be noisy. That's why he liked it the most. The genius looked better, too. Like he was no longer drowning in Lake April. That was a relief, because Raphael was all out of turtle-saving tricks.

The white jug did not protest as Raphael squeezed and squished it into a more compact shape. As he turned to discover whether the trash or recycle can was closer, a door slamming grasped his attention back towards his brothers' room. There, a green blur darted into the bathroom, followed by another slam. In the empty lair, the sound was almost deafening.

The blur had erupted from Donatello's room. And Raphael felt a tingling sensation leave the back of his skull and travel down his arms and body, as if it were no coincidence.

He stood there for at least five minutes, wondering if there was anything he could really do. Donatello could have been sick, or experiencing a backfire from a late night experiment. The turtle could have really had to piss. It was not his business, so he turned back to the kitchen to give his orange juice container a proper burial.

But then he looked back at the bathroom door and frowned. He could hear the slight but distinct sounds of his brother dry heaving, the echo only barely reaching his ears, but loud enough in the still home. As the only other turtle up, he guessed it was his duty to play "nurse," though a sneaky voice in his head attempted to convince him to wake up Michelangelo instead. Then, with a lazy stride, he dug through their cabinets for a cup and filled it halfway with cool water from the tap. Raphael then turned and scrutinized the bathroom door, as if it were more than just a door. Another slight hesitation and the brother slowly started his trek across the living area and to the bathroom with his helpful glass of water.

Raphael could hear his brother breathing heavily on the other side, the sounds being echoed by the toilet bowl. A few coughs and moans escaped the sickly turtle as well, and then another bout of fruitless heaves left Donatello's throat. It sounded like the poor guy had nothing left in his stomach after the first and second round.

Quietly, Raphael tapped on the bathroom door, and as he expected, he heard sounds change on the other side. Instead of a moaning Donatello, the turtle's breathing could no longer be heard at all. There was no sounds of weakness; no sounds at all. "Donnie?" Raphael softly said, his voice still gruff. Immediately, he felt like his was intruding.

"I'm alright." Donatello replied in the same hushed voice from the other side of the door.

Everything about his voice sounded like he wanted to just be alone, and usually Raphael would catch that hint, no problem. But he felt obligated to make sure everything was okay. "Ya sure?" He pressured on, as if Donatello had something more to say than he ate some expired dairy.

"I said I'm okay." Donatello's voice was more strained, and genuinely hurting.

Raphael could not ignore that. "Donnie, I brought you some water." Raphael stood unwavering, trying to decipher Donatello's unsaid messages.

"Go away!" Donatello's voice was louder and more upset.

It did not take a rocket scientist to know there was something more than food sickness going on, and Raphael felt slighted when Donatello did not want to include him. "I'ma come in, Donnie. You 'prolly need to drink this." Raphael thought of some of the worst hangovers he had experienced over the years, and though he never felt like it, drinking water always made him feel better. Hangovers were still a valid sickness, just like whatever Donatello was experiencing, right?

"No!" Donatello absolutely protested and Raphael heard his brother's shell hit the back of the door, rather violently. "Get out of here, Raph. Leave me alone!"

Raphael narrowed his eyes at the troublesome door, as if contemplating taking it off its hinges. For a moment, he did grab the handle and twist, but Donatello's weight kept the door from opening.

"Get the hell away from me, Raph!" Donatello's voice was stressed and loud. The turtle almost sounded to be panicking on the other side of the wooden barrier separating the two.

Raphael glanced around the lair. No worried faces stared his direction, but Donatello was getting very loud. And annoying, he might add. Here he was, trying to help the poor guy, and Raphael felt as though Donatello just told him to screw himself in ten different languages. That simply would not fly. "No reason ta be a complete dick, Donnie." Raphael felt his temper starting to teeter off his logical edge.

Donatello only fueled the fire. "You wouldn't understand." If that was his attempt at a peaceful gesture to end the seizing argument, it was not nearly good enough. "You wouldn't get it." Donatello's head bounced off the bathroom door in frustration.

Raphael huffed at the genius's statement. "So I'm not a doctor, I can tell somethin's wrong with ya, Don." Raphael attempted to cool his voice; he tried to remain supportive. He was definitely in a gray area he knew nothing about. And that made him extremely uncomfortable.

A few more gagging coughs from the other side of the door and Donatello's head echoed against the wood again. "Just… go away." He sounded so weak now, there was no hiding that.

Raphael growled and tried to push the door open once more. At first, the body blocking it gave way, but then the door pushed back with unexpected force. Raphael caught himself from falling as the door slammed into his beak and shut for good. He opted to kick the railing to release some of the building frustration, but it was not enough. "Then just sit in there, Don. I'm trying to help you, an' you just treat me like a flippin' idiot." Raphael backed up away from the door, feeling hot and ready to blow. He needed to take out his built up energy, and taking it out on his sickly brother was about the worse thing he could possibly do.

He noticed a figure move and a second later, Leonardo was down on the main floor with him, looking concerned and still trying to mask his fatigue. Raphael did not even offer the leader a glance before he took off, jumping half way up the stairs, and then jumping again to the second floor. A second later, he was safe and secure behind his slammed bed room door, pacing around the tiny space as he often did when he was angry at Leonardo.

…But he was not angry at Leonardo. Raphael only felt confused as he lifted a spare weight a few times from muscle memory and then let it drop to the floor. The steaming turtle moved to occupy his mind elsewhere, but his small room had very little to offer.

Donatello was sick and he just overreacted. Raphael reacted excessively in turn. He felt weird, more fired up than any argument he had with Leonardo in the past year, but his built up rage was directed at no one. It was just there, boiling under his skin, sending him contradictory orders. Conflicting, because another side of his mind was sending him completely opposite feelings.

Raphael was suddenly confronted with the urge to break something, but he just punched a dangling mini-exercise bag instead. The turtle was tossing his lunch, and Raphael should have just taken his initial thought to leave him be. Come to think of it, Raphael would hate to be in that position. Sure, Donatello was acting pretty aggressive for his usual calm demeanor, but that was nothing compared to what Raphael was capable of; and so, Raphael realized that perhaps he was to blame for the argument. Not that he was surprised with the verdict.

Raphael actually felt himself getting calmer as he contemplated the situation, really only feeling slightly awkward at his reaction to the poor turtle. Obviously Donatello was suffering from something, and he had to go make the ailment worse. Raphael tugged at a hanging light string and his room went dark. He then jumped into his hammock and stared at his ceiling. The darkness cooled him further, and he struggled to break through the barriers of anger to figure out what had just happened.

Tradition begged him not to bother thinking it over, but something pulled him to consider the situation more closely. He supposed that was some sort of guilt, lashing out at him because he treated Donatello as he would Leonardo, and the genius in no way deserved it.

And so Raphael swung lightly in his hammock, defending the turtle who he, just a moment ago, thought disrespected him. He even went as far as to make up excuses and plots why the turtle would really ever accidentally say such mean things.

In the morning, he would have to apologize and make sure Donatello did not think to ill of him for his rude behavior tonight.

Apologize.

The swinging stopped.

"What's wrong with me?"


	6. Purple, Knowing is Half the Battle

**Genesis**

Turtlecest, raphxdon – Because everything has to start somewhere…

Disclaimer: If I owned the turtles, it wouldn't be a kiddie show.

Warnings: turtlecest, yaoi, turtle on turtle action, slash, mature: are you sure you are in the right place? Be weary or your brain might implode.

Chapter Six – Purple: Knowing is Half the Battle

* * *

Donatello spent most of his time in the lab these days, but at least had long since developed the daily formulated schedule to keep his family from harping on his case. He could get away with skipping one meal a day, two chores a week, and could probably stretch his absence further as long as he performed well at practice.

Ignoring it was not working. Whatever "it" was, his mind was still plagued. Three months ago, he found himself on the communal bathroom floor, wondering exactly how he would ever get up and continue living, discovering then what he had way over analyzed now. Three months, and he was doing better than he could have possibly expected. It was almost something to be proud of – except he was still an incestuous turtle freak. That part still stung.

Three months and he had done everything in his power to avoid Raphael. They never sat together, never ate alone, never participated in the same entertaining activities. Practices were the real issue – and they turned out to be pretty tortuous for Donatello. He found his only way of getting through was to simply channel the moves he had mastered, and put absolutely no thought forward. Leonardo had obviously noticed the turtle not thinking on his feet, but he managed to talk his way through those confrontations, too.

Donatello was a genius at avoiding problems, come to find out. But nothing was happening, nothing was changing, and his feelings were starting to feel like a fifty car pileup on the Brooklyn Bridge.

The turtle was quick to accept what could be the only possible conclusion to his predicament. Somehow, his feelings for April ricocheted onto his brother. This was nothing more than a rebound. Raphael was only there because April was taken away suddenly. And that was the only adequate explanation.

The thing about rebounds, he read over the internet, was that they always get people into trouble. So his situation fit perfectly. And there was good news, to boot. Rebounds go away because they were not true feelings; just hyped up emotions flung onto a poor, unsuspecting passerby. So really, all the turtle could do was keep waiting until Raphael no longer occupied the spot light.

Practice and projects failed to hold his attention. Generally nothing in his life could distract him from what he was feeling. Donatello would give anything to be obsessing over April again, writing her love letters that never made it off his hard drive, stopping by her house just to make sure she got home safely, and practicing to her pictures for that one day he would let his feelings be known. But those feelings were gone with the wind, and who knew what replaced them would be so devastating.

Three months. He felt like a zombie, barely providing more than muscle memory to keep his days going. It seemed at least no one had noticed. Raphael had barely spoken to the turtle, much to his disappointment. And betterment.

Donatello shook his head as if physically loosening the thought from his mind. But there was no use. It was one of many thoughts he had succumbed to lately, and though he tried hard to stay normal, there was a piece of him growing in strength day by day, that yearned to do everything possible to please his brother. It was absolutely sickening.

Donatello sighed and pushed away some papers in front of him. Science was going to save him, one way or the other. It did not have a choice. Science was his hostage at the moment, and he would get what he wanted.

And somehow he knew a part of him would be pleased with either result.

A machine chimed beside him and he granted it his attention. So far, Leonardo and Michelangelo had been willing candidates for a new medical procedure he was testing. As a minimum, that was how he explained it to them. He simply left a few details out.

There was a quiet rap on his door and he looked up. Nonchalantly, he pulled a second chair out for his guest to sit down and be comfortable. He completely ignored the heat that surged to his cheeks and for a moment was never happier to be a turtle with camouflage-like green skin, at least with the color red.

Speaking of red, Raphael entered the room, leaving the door wide open. He plopped down into the chair Donatello offered without so much as a glance. Instead, he intensely stared at Donatello's new toy as it swirled by command with a few glass vials.

Donatello felt a tinge of sadness as Raphael seemed to completely ignore him. Then again, Donatello was performing a similar show, acting as though Raphael's presence meant absolutely nothing to him. It did mean nothing to half of him, but the other side was more than delighted to bask in his existence. This needed to end.

"Thank you for participating." Donatello had a certain voice when he was being "Dr. Don" and they all knew what that meant. He was stern, to the point, and generally detached from his brothers, for their sake and his. Dr. Don meant that when he was trying to save one of them through risky measures, he would concentrate less on the fear of hurting them, and more on doing the job right so that his patient would live.

Raphael did not respond, just shrugged. Donatello took it as his cue to continue.

This was the end of the road for Donatello's ridiculous feelings. He arranged to have each of his brother's tested and compared. Of course, none of them knew exactly what he was going, but that was common in his medical examinations. Their genes would spell the end of his illogical admiration by shoving reason and science back in his face. This would prove they were siblings. Brothers. Blood. And there would never be anything between them not fraternal because it was wrong on so many levels.

Morality would rule. Science would triumph. And Donatello would fall in line like he always did, no complaints and no questions asked. It was simply how things worked. And his best logical approach to solving his messy dilemma.

"This is very simple, Raph." Donatello held up a vial and cotton swab on a stick. "I just need to collect some of your saliva." Donatello held up the swab expectantly, and after a moment's delay, Raphael opened his mouth. The hothead's eyes darted to another part of the room and he seemed entirely bored and annoyed with the whole process.

A warm feeling flushed through his entire body, but Donatello crushed it. It was true, that science served as a double sided sword in his equation, and no doubt his split emotions had something to do with that. The test had the capability to send his feelings packing, with no chance for survival after he discovered they were truly brothers. It was his last hope as he felt himself doddering on an emotional cliff. Something had to be done because sitting around waiting for the feelings to disperse was not good enough.

But it also sported a chance to prove they were not related at all. Donatello was more than just aware of this. A part of his heart wanted nothing more than to have their lack of relation well known and accepted, so that he could pursue any course of action he pleased.

Donatello was disgusted with himself the entire time he collected what he needed from Raphael. The discomfort was absolutely excruciating.

He blinked. Raphael was staring at him intensely, as Donatello had paused his experiment in contemplation. "Sorry." He quietly said as he gathered the swab and secured it in an empty vial. As he started the cleanup process, he meant for the action to be a silent sign to Raphael that he could go, but the turtle lingered.

"Ya need anything else?" Raphael slowly stood from his chair, and stood clear over the hunched Donatello.

"No, this is all I require." Donatello hid his admiration from his voice. This was the closest they had been in some time. Alone. Since the roof, at least.

"Ya sure?" Raphael lingered on his words in such a way to get Donatello's attention.

Or was the sick and hopeful turtle just hearing what he wanted to hear? The thought that Donatello was losing control of the situation at hand just filled him up with aggravation. "Yeah, that's it." He responded half-heartedly, and he moved back, away from Raphael, and proceeded to put the last vial that he needed into the machine that had been spinning when Raphael entered the room. It had stopped at some point, but he had not noticed.

"See ya later, then." Raphael added. Donatello nodded but did not meet his brother's gaze. He heard the feet plotting towards the exit and a second later, the click of that door. He was left alone with his thoughts once more. Some were commendable; some were downright nauseating for the turtle.

"Bye." He whispered, though only to himself. And he prepared his latest experiment.

Had he needed to take blood, Donatello may have actually combusted upon the physical touch necessary to do collect it. Luckily, the turtle had plenty to spare, securely stored away in a mini fridge thrown out by spoiled college students. He was thankful this procedure turned out to be so simple. It was as if his laboratory had left him completely prepared; like this moment was destined to come.

His equipment was older. It was nothing like state of the art technology a real laboratory or hospital would have. But it would work. The results would just take longer. He needed a few days, rather than a few minutes.

He was almost tempted to do what he could to make it a few minutes. But logic had him grounded once more and he agreed he could simply wait.

A few more days of torture were nothing to the last couple of months. Granted, most of that time had been spent in contemplation and getting him to the point where he was now, where emotions were running high and something absolutely had to be done. Here he was, testing his brothers for something he had long ago vowed to on no account do, because there was a part of him that never wanted to know the truth.

_That they were not real brothers_. _Michelangelo. Leonardo. Raphael. _And now, secretly, a siren went off in his head as he started accepting that it could be a possibility. His head slowly panned to the spinning machine he reactivated moments ago. Could he handle knowing his family was not really his family?

At least it would give him the chance part of him craved. A chance for what? Donatello sighed and looked away from the testing equipment completely. His brain was fighting for something he barely understood. And truly did not want. It was as if something else was trying to take him away and drag him from himself. Like an outside force was taking over completely.

Donatello heavily sighed and opted to leave his lab entirely.

"Just a few more days."

* * *

Science!


	7. Red, Craving Simplicity

**Genesis**

Turtlecest, raphxdon – Because everything has to start somewhere…

Disclaimer: If I owned the turtles, it wouldn't be a kiddie show.

Warnings: turtlecest, yaoi, turtle on turtle action, slash, mature: are you sure you are in the right place? Be weary or your brain might implode.

Chapter 07 – Red, Craving Simplicity

* * *

It did not take a genius to notice there was something up with Donatello. This was the brother Raphael figured he least offended, and yet here he found himself, completely voted off Donatello's island. The realization actually bothered him, which was a disturbance in itself. Since when did he care whether or not he was liked?

Raphael was not exactly a social butterfly when it came to interacting with others, and yet he put forth a valid effort, in a way. At first, he had tried to be friendly to Donatello; less aggressive than usual. He thought maybe his attitude had finally rubbed the turtle sour. But there was no change in Donatello's demeanor, even with less douche-baggery on Raphael's part.

There was no doubt that somehow, the purple banded turtle borrowed Leonardo's stick and securely lodged it up his backdoor. Because there was no explanation as to why Donatello would suddenly be so bitchy, practically leaving Leonardo's mighty attitude as nothing more than a minor annoyance.

Raphael tried on multiple occasions to stir up a conversation with Donatello, but nothing ever happened. It was Donatello who had in the past always talked to him and brought up interesting subject material. And there was something gnawing at his brain wires, keeping Raphael from being able to produce a discussion worthy of Donatello's precious time. The thought only drove him into further banishment.

Eventually, Raphael just had to accept that Donatello no longer would stand whatever it was about Raphael that was pushing him away. Donatello no longer made the simple gestures as he had for years before. An entire lifetime before. None of the subjects they used to discuss about ever came up. Even the boring ones. Raphael even missed the boring ones. Any ties the brothers once shared seemed to be completely severed.

The transition was rough, but Raphael let things unfold as the genius wished. If Donatello did not want to talk to him, than he was more than willing to give Donatello that space.

Time was never a heavy factor for the hothead. He was young and he still felt strong. He had all the time in the world. A few months did not stand out in his mind's eye as anything to fret over.

Until he was alone at night, staring at his ceiling actually realizing his buried concerns.

A bitterness resided over his features now, some time after whatever was occurring started to happen. He honestly had not noticed at first, since he was a generally crabby turtle. But after a good think and some name calling from Michelangelo, it dawned on him.

Something was not just bothering Donatello. His mind was under constant harassment as well, and his mood was no better.

His days were full of distractions instead of tasks. But with little adjustment, he settled fine with that realization. The sooner Donatello figured out what was wrong with himself, he could turn and start fixing Raphael. If it was indeed a medical issue.

There was a good chance of it, actually. Donatello called all four brothers in for one of his secret mad scientist gigs. Usually, the less clear the turtle was with explanations, the closer to home his experiments were really hitting.

So then he was sick. And Donatello was trying to fix him. It was a comforting thought, but Raphael still doubted that was all to the predicament.

Raphael was no fool. And he was more observant than anyone gave him credit for. He caught each and every glance ever thrown his direction from the others. And they were speaking his language. No one could understand the silent art of conveying messages through their eyes like Raphael. The well trained turtle could notice fear with no effort. He could catch lies, deceit, and exaggeration; all of it. It was truly a forte that he never shared with others. It was his secret talent that he never really honed or bothered realizing that he had.

And the looks were flying much more than usual. Michelangelo and Leonardo both had messages to relay, but neither said a word. Michelangelo was worried and simply shared his concerned through soft glimpses and shallow smiles. These were even more obvious than his stuttered offerings of games and even the remote control to the precious television. The turtle was a wreck watching his family become so distant without a reason why.

Leonardo was of course more liberal with his stares. He noticed all the prolonged eye contacts and glares from his family, but especially Leonardo's. The two could practically have entire conversations without ever mouthing a word.

Leonardo's input was clear. He knew that something was going on and he was certain it was Raphael's fault.

Honestly, they all sensed something was happening. In such close quarters, it was practically impossible to hide the sudden attitude change of two brothers.

The eldest turtle was growing more generous with his accusing eyes. He would stand closer to Raphael as the days flew by. His arms were crossed, defensively, as he waited for Raphael's response. His message had been relayed for weeks and Raphael still pretended like he was not there. With Raphael's track record, though, that could not go on forever. Raphael would eventually snap and they could fight verbally, a much more familiar ground of conversation for the two.

The thought was not exactly negative for Raphael. The turtle would rather bicker any day with Leonardo, over what was currently happening. He was naturally aggressive and always posed for a good fight. But this battle he supposedly had going on with Donatello was completely different than anything he had fought before. Raphael felt completely frustrated and he was almost ready to surrender, his white flag never showing such a desire to fly up and end this silent conflict.

Mind games. Wearisome, ridiculous mind games. And Raphael knew he met his superior in Donatello. Upon realizing his involvement, he never once thought he could possibly defeat the master of the psyche in their lair. He envisioned a mental chess board and Donatello coolly sitting on one side, him pounding the pieces into dust on the other. That was the eventual outcome if this did not end. This absurdity had to stop.

But someone beat him to the finale.

It was right after Donatello called them in for medical testing, that very day. Leonardo apparently had enough. His warfare with Raphael's burning eyes got him nowhere, and he was probably trapped in Donatello's mind battlefield, too. They all had their specialties and Leonardo's was full- fledged frontal assault confrontation.

"I've had enough." Leonardo declared to a silent room. Michelangelo and Raphael both exactly seemed to know what he was talking about. Donatello opted to retreat right back into the lab he left seconds before. Unfortunate for him, he was not fast enough. He had been spotted. And there was no avoiding the quarrel at hand.

Leonardo was up and moving, whatever plan he prepared moving into full action. A second later, his hand was covering Donatello's wrist, and the turtle was being yanked towards the living area where Raphael currently occupied. Oh yes, there was no mistake. Leonardo, the king of patience, wanted this over tonight.

Raphael maintained his lazy appearance, but on the inside, gears were turning. He was definitely not ready to face Donatello. And he was annoyed that Leonardo was shoving himself into the conflict. Raphael wished nothing more than for the turtle to just butt out of his problems, but he knew that hope would never be granted. He was more likely to spend a week freely roaming Disney World than accept Leonardo's gracious apology and a complete treaty of disarmament.

Leonardo's hand locked around Raphael's wrist and the turtle completely tensed. Slowly, Raphael stood up, his hyper muscles visually flexing, as he fought the natural urge to either fight or run away. There was no where he could run and so his fists balled up into weapons, and he stood there, waiting for his invitation to shove Leonardo out of his business.

"This needs to end." Leonardo started his speech. There was a hint of anger behind his words. Perhaps because he was left out of what was happening. No one ran to him for advice. Or maybe because the schism between the two middle brothers was tearing the family apart. For whatever reason, Leonardo was obviously finding it difficult to leave his emotions out. Score one for Team Raphael.

Raphael growled at Leonardo, finding the perfect way to distract them all from the real problem at hand. "Don't touch me." Raphael tried to free his hand, but to no avail. Leonardo retained his grasp and pulled the two even closer together.

Donatello reacted like a rag doll, almost in pain. He just went with Leonardo's motions, silently. His eyes were closed and teeth clinched. He obviously did not know what to do about the situation.

"You two have been granted ample time to settle matters on your own, but here you are, still struggling with this petty argument." Leonardo accused, turning to stare at each of the equally. "Neither of you have come to me about it. Or our father. You are just fine with never speaking to each other again?" Leonardo questioned.

Raphael just growled and looked away, infuriated by Leonardo's interjection but unable to answer the question. "This ain't yur business, Leo." Raphael could never take the opportunities to keep his mouth shut.

"Raph, don't push him." Donatello surprisingly added in a gloomy voice.

Whatever Leonardo was going to say in response to Raphael never made it out of his throat. Instead, he moved on as if Raphael said nothing, compliments of Donatello. "What's wrong with you two?" The leader sounded almost distraught, like the tearing of his family was actually affecting him.

Raphael did not reply, only looked down at the ground. He realized everyone was suffering at his behavior. Bothered because of him. He hated that all-too-familiar feeling, when he just suddenly realized everything was his fault. Even more than he originally thought. It always hung over him like a rain cloud. He was not kindly offering Donatello the space he needed; Raphael was physically straining everyone in the household.

"We're fine, Leo." Donatello quietly added. Raphael instantly realized he should be the one to do the talking, because that was the clearly a half-hearted lie that would get them nowhere.

Leonardo's grip tightened on both of their wrists. He was about to move. "I want nothing more than to lock you two in a closet until you get over whatever disagreement you had." Leonardo's eyes shifted around as if actually searching for a suitable closet. It was moments like this where Raphael realized a lot of Leonardo's plans were made on the fly. "But this will have to do." Leonardo made his decision and stepped forward. Donatello willingly dragged, but Raphael planted his feet.

Raphael's temper immediately skyrocketed as Leonardo tried to force him towards the dojo, the only real spare room in their household. He freed his wrist almost immediately with all the strength he had on tap, and took a step back. Leonardo made a grave mistake in his plan, thinking he could force Raphael to do anything. "Get the hell off me, Leo. An' get the fuck away from us." Raphael spit out. "You dun understand anythin. Ya think ya do but there ain't nothin' wrong wit us."

Leonardo stood his ground. "Then what happened, Raph?" His voice remained calm. "Why won't you two talk to each other?"

"We're gettin' along just fine without your snobby ass interfering." Raphael pointed out, wrong but determined to distract Leonardo enough to let him run away. Unfortunately, old habits die hard and Raphael gave the entrance to their home a quick look as if checking to see if the path was clear. His intentions shined vibrantly to those around him.

"You're not going anywhere!" Leonardo shouted, louder than he meant, and he immediately turned towards Splinter's door as if his disturbance would rock it off its hinges. And his mission was illuminated as well. He was trying to handle this situation without their Master's approval. Possibly, without his knowledge.

Leonardo and Raphael moved close together, as they often did when a showdown was at hand. Both had ample ammunition and the night was about to turn into World War III.

Michelangelo sat by silently, knowing his way of handling situations, humor, would do no good under the given circumstances. He looked over at the argument from his comic book, and kept his tongue securely locked down as to avoid getting any of that aggression aimed towards him.

But Donatello stepped up. "Raph." The turtle calmly said, in his normal voice, with no hints of sadness or anything alluding to the last few months. "Leo."

He gained both of their attention instantly, as it had been quite a while since he sounded as though he had any assertion in his voice. Raphael looked at his younger brother, much of the pent up anger pouring out of him in the form of radiating heat. Leonardo did the same, and seemed hopeful that Donatello would support him.

"Don, this is hurting us all." Leonardo offered a bit of insight with a touch of actual feeling. "Of everyone, you two never fight. Never argue." Raphael found it awfully strange, because Leonardo would never talk to him like that. Granted, that was because he immediately found himself preying on the weakness in Leonardo's voice, but he said nothing. "Just try and talk. I, we…" He gestured towards Michelangelo on the couch, "don't even care what you are arguing over. It just cannot be this detrimental." Leonardo looked to Raphael, and their eyes met.

The message was apparent. Leonardo needed this as much as Raphael did. The turtle looked over at Donatello, who sent the same signals. Even Michelangelo, bundled up on the couch, trying to distract himself from the battle at hand, was being tortured. The youngest turtle's eyes suck low and shined with pools of water refusing to flow.

Raphael said nothing, only allowed Leonardo to usher him into the dojo. Donatello quietly allowed himself to be led in the empty room as well.

At first, Leonardo seemed as though he was going to stay for whatever conversation they were supposed so share, but as they both glared at him, even a novice eye reader could take the hint.

Raphael's features were shifting to anger again, for each passing second Leonardo remained. This was awkward enough, his issues being brought to the surface by an impatient brother. The least the jackass could do was not monitor them like they were in grade school detention. One shot of narrowed eyes, and Leonardo was bowing out, with further wishes the brothers would console.

The eldest turtle prepared to shut the door behind him, sealing the two in the room for as long as it took for them to work out whatever argument they were struggling to overcome.

And Raphael glanced over to Donatello, usually so bold as to take the first initiative, but he found himself swimming in a sea of doubt. His tongue felt swollen in his mouth and saying something was next to impossible. But listening to the silence was also just as deafening. Since when did it become so hard to stand alone in the same room as his brother?

Somewhere in his throat, he rediscovered his voice box, and opted to end the silence over having his ears pierced by absolute nothingness.

"Now what?"

* * *

Sorry for the delay - I had Spring Break last week. woooooooo!


	8. Purple, Too Soon

**Genesis**

Turtlecest, raphxdon – Because everything has to start somewhere…

Disclaimer: If I owned the turtles, it wouldn't be a kiddie show.

Warnings: turtlecest, yaoi, turtle on turtle action, slash, mature: are you sure you are in the right place? Be weary or your brain might implode.

Chapter 08 – Purple, Too Soon

* * *

Leonardo forced them into the dojo to discuss issues the leader could not fathom understanding. No wonder Leonardo had been so out of character towards the end of his heartfelt lecture. Or, that was just his ploy, to tug at Donatello's heart strings so that he would comply. So either Leonardo was completely unable to be deceptive or he was a tricky bastard.

"Now what?" Raphael spoke quickly and his voice was more of a rumble than a natural tone.

Donatello snapped back to the present when Raphael spoke, noticing his mind was trying to run as fast as it could away from the situation at hand. His brain was trying to vacation away and escape his current predicament. It disturbed Donatello to physically feel his mind trying to peel away; abandon him to the current problem with light-hearted reveries. But another fear surfaced. If he started day dreaming about things he had been imagining as of recently, things would get even more awkward tonight.

The genius pried himself away from a dark road of unwelcome thoughts. He finally took a risk and not only glanced, but studied the turtle before him. Raphael was very tense and agitated, possibly angry at him for being forced in the space with no available exits. Their eyes met for a moment and they both turned away cautiously. No, Raphael was not as much angry as uncomfortable. Well, the hothead was definitely fuming, just at Leonardo and not him. That was as good of a sign as any that things could be tolerable.

But Donatello did not want to be here, either. He had his experiment to examine and that would fix the problem. If only Leonardo would have given him two more days. Three, tops. Then this mess would all be over, confrontation-free, and things would shift back into normalcy.

He was granted with new confidence to face the situation, knowing everything would turn out okay in the end. But Donatello still found it difficult to speak, as a ball of nervous energy in the pit of his stomach was starting to make itself known. The palms of his hands were sweaty, and he was pretty sure Raphael was heating the room up to unlivable conditions. He felt just like he did whenever he and April were alone. But unlike with her, this did not feel normal. Because Raphael was his brother and the feelings were a mistake.

"Well." Donatello started, his voice was higher, but he practiced in his head to bring it down to a customary pitch. "There's nothing wrong with me." He motions towards himself with his right hand. "And there is nothing wrong with you." He pointed at Raphael. "So really, I do not see why we can't just tell Leonardo we've kissed and made up." Donatello fidgeted instantly with his choice of words.

And Raphael cringed. _Why did he cringe?_ Donatello noticed a very distinct recoil from Raphael when he was speaking. The genius made a poor choice of words at this point. But that reaction. Was it really necessary? His nervous smile immediately sunk into a frown. He felt suddenly dejected.

Whatever was holding Raphael's vocal chords dispersed. "I'm not stupid, Donnie." Raphael started his rant off in a harsh, semi-loud voice. "There is somethin' the matter with ya and I want ta know what." Raphael pointed his finger in a mocking fashion towards Donatello, before spinning away. His shell was now to his brother. "Whateva it is, I'm sure as shit tired of it." He kicked a practice baton out of the way as he wondered aimlessly around the room. His motions were quick and fluid, and he was directly avoiding looking in Donatello's direction as he unleashed his accusations.

Donatello actually took a step back as Raphael poked in his direction during his spiel. In all of their lives as brothers, usually this sort of treatment was reserved for Leonardo. Well, not that this was anything near the level of angst Raphael and Leonardo presented to one another, but it was enough. Donatello did not appreciate being spoken to in such a tone.

"Ya gonna lie to me, Don?" Raphael continued from his chosen point much further away from Donatello. "Keep tellin' me your okay so you can keep pretendin' I dun exist tomorra?" Raphael seemed more than happy to start this conversation off with a bang.

He was no liar. Donatello fumed at his words, surprised that the hothead had it in him to produce such a reaction. Donatello was usually so calm and level minded, but Raphael's words stung. His reactions hurt. And Donatello was growing more impatient as his fuse shortened for this brother. He simply could not believe he had feelings for this jerk.

And Donatello took one step forward towards his brother who was deliberately on the other side of the room. It was an aggressive step, something Donatello had never done in his life. He failed to see if Raphael even noticed. "Stop it, Raph," was all he could muster as he realized he had little to say to his brother. Because Raphael was right.

"Stop what?" Raphael performed his signature 'hmph.' "Stop tellin' ya the truth? Ya want me to lie, too? Play along?" Raphael was reacting as though backed into a corner. This was a sight Donatello rarely saw. And never from this close; this point of view. "Just go and an' tell me how I should freakin' feel, then. Yeah, I'm doin' okay, Donnie. "

Donatello felt his fingers twitching. It was practically new to him, anger surging through his body like a weapon, secretly trying to convince him to cause harm and promising that he would feel better if he managed to complete the mission. It was alien. "Raph, I…" Logic was faltering, he could feel it but he tried once more, only to be rudely interrupted by his steaming brother.

"Is 'okay' okay with you?" Raphael continued. "Or do you have any requests?"

Donatello said nothing, only sent piercing eyes to Raphael, silently begging him to end his rant. The only words that came to mind were hurtful and furious. And that was a path Donatello was desperately trying to avoid. When Raphael noticed, the room grew quiet for a moment, but Raphael was not done. He could see that in his features that the turtle would not quit so easily.

"Then. Tell. Me. What's. Wrong." Raphael annunciated very slow to the turtle, as if he had brain damage.

"There's…" Donatello went to speak again, but found himself interrupted again. He took another step forward, relishing in the fact that soon, Raphael would have no choice but to stand next to him.

"With. Us." Raphael finished his last thought with a surprising statement. He completely admitted that they were both suffering from something. It seemed the turtle had not deciphered the ailment like Donatello.

Or that was just more hopeful thinking. Donatello mentally kicked himself in the head. "Raphael, I will..."

"You'll what, Don?" Raphael punched the wall beside him. The turtle was visually frustrated and unable to figure out what even brought him to this point. And, as strange as it appeared, though the turtle was furious, his anger was redirecting to other objects in the room, and not Donatello. That surely had to take a massive amount of willpower, for the turtle usually so eager to take out his aggression on the one that caused it.

Donatello was just about done with the logical approach. He squeezed his hands so hard they hurt. The turtle was tired from lack of sleep, exhausted from the mental fortress he was trying frantically to keep up, and now he was being interrupted like nothing he had to say would matter anyway. It was simply too much.

A burning aggravation was challenging his body to react how it desperately wanted to, and he finally succumbed. Immediately, Donatello was in new territory, something Raphael ventured to at least bi-weekly, experiencing what it was like to let anger take control.

And there it was again. That loss of control. The cause of his maneuvers and current predicaments. It was becoming like a drug, he an addict. But this was no time to think about that now. He was ready to argue right back with Raphael, give him a piece of his own medicine, and stoop to the same level.

"You won't even listen to me talk." Donatello screamed back in a surprisingly loud voice. "You don't actually care what I have to say." The turtle took a step forward. "You just want this all to be my fault." Another step forward. "MY fault, like _I_ have caused _YOU_ to be such a dick."

"Fuckin' rea.." Raphael found himself on the other end of the interruption train this time, and his face certainly did not appear as though he liked it.

"You are a jerk. You care about Raphael." Donatello was very near inviting himself up into Raphael's personal bubble. "I'm just supposed to fix this mess, and then you'll be fine, right?" And then he did step into that space, and Raphael seemed rather perplexed. "Well why the hell don't you try and fix me. I didn't cause this. I didn't ask for this to happen." Donatello was shouting now.

Raphael's attitude transformed immediately. He was surprised by Donatello's sudden change. A screaming match was definitely not part of the calm turtle's nature. Raphael looked confused rather than upset, but Donatello did not feel the urge to stop his onslaught just yet.

"You're such an ass, Raph." Donatello shook his head as if almost trying to not believe what he was saying. "It doesn't make any sense." The turtle's thoughts were becoming jumbled under the stress of the livid, emotional rant he was currently professing. "Are you so dense you really can't see what's happening?" There was a plea in his voice, heavily masked by rage, but it was there. Very slight, but present.

Raphael was unquestionably flabbergasted by Donatello's irate display, but he was no push over in the world of verbal battling. "If you're so fuckin' smart, why dun ya tell me then." Raphael venomously spit out, looking down in utter discontent as his brother captured the rest of the space between them. The turtle was still astounded, taking such a lashing from Donatello. It was simply unexpected. He had to take a step back.

Donatello continued his offensive and filled in the gap between himself and Raphael once more. He was fired up and feeling like he could actually attack the guy, that face looking so smug back down at him. Donatello felt as though he was unleashing everything he was feeling, and his brother had no response; nothing to say to him. He was on his own, like some outcast sibling, with no one to turn to. He did not want to be alone. He wanted Raphael to understand, but the turtle simply refused. Raphael wanted to be left out of the loop because knowing was torture. Understanding the situation meant the burden was completely on Donatello's shoulders. And he started feeling weak, like his anger was simply not enough to keep this momentum going. He closed his eyes, wondering how on earth he put himself in such an apprehensive situation.

Raphael, on the other hand, was just getting started, as he welcomed Donatello into his personal fighting pit. The second Donatello's assault began to waver, the hot head was in his face, spouting back exactly what he thought of Donatello. But Donatello could no longer hear him. There was something about him not being as smart as he thought it was, and similar belittling comments, but they did not register in his brain. Donatello was so flustered and so lost. He had snapped, and just now everything was starting to file back into order. And everything Donatello said and thought streamed in all at once.

He opened his eyes, and they stared directly into Raphael's. At such a close quarter, Donatello was afraid to breath or it might blow him away. And though he refused to register the words, he stared into those burning golden eyes extremely fearful of what was going to happen next.

But that fear was overtaken by an impulsive bravery.

* * *

It's fun how people tend to compliment each other as they grow together - Go figure that though Donatello's presence gives Raphael an unnatural calming... Raphael's awards Donatello with a shorter fuse and makes him more inclined to unleash frustration in more violent methods. How fun is that?


	9. Blue, Intervention

**Genesis**

Turtlecest, raphxdon – Because everything has to start somewhere…

Disclaimer: If I owned the turtles, it wouldn't be a kiddie show.

Warnings: turtlecest, yaoi, turtle on turtle action, slash, mature: are you sure you are in the right place? Be weary or your brain might implode.

Chapter Nine – Blue, Intervention

* * *

Leonardo placed his faith in Donatello's ability to talk things over. If there was anyone on the planet Raphael would ever open up to, it was Donatello. The turtle was naturally a good listener, with the talent to logic out any dispute. He also had a calming aura about him that Leonardo hoped would trickle in Raphael's direction.

He also counted on Raphael not exploding at Donatello. The anger issues that usually plagued Leonardo's own interact tions with his brother were typically suppressed in Donatello's attendance. Sure, the turtle would unleash everything he had at Leonardo over spilt milk, but Raphael and Donatello never argued. They never fought. Whatever was happening between them was odd and unexpected.

The two turtles both had their traits, and it was suddenly apparent which talent proved more dominant. At first, there had been loud talking, but nothing Leonardo had felt needed his attention. But since then, the conversation scaled into a full blown argument, the muffled voices carrying over into the living area. Had it just been Raphael screaming, Leonardo would have just ignored it. But when he heard Donatello's voice soaring into the living room, he knew there was a problem. Raphael got to him.

He sat on the adjacent couch peering over his shoulder at the closed door every few minutes. He could not understand the garbled mess, but the situation was clear enough. Each time he looked back, Michelangelo looked up at him from the other couch and nonchalantly went back to his comic book. Leonardo would then look back to his own reading materials, refusing to admit that, in this case, Michelangelo just might have had more patience than him.

Upon hearing Donatello's voice join the ruckus, he decided to give it another minute or so before he intervened, in hopes that Donatello would soon regain his senses, and calm Raphael down with him. His confidence in Donatello's ability to settle Raphael was only half-hearted, though. If Leonardo lacked the capabilities to do so, then how would Donatello?

It was annoying to think that, out of the two, Raphael's anger emerged the victor. But he supposed it would be a cold day in hell when the hothead accepted reason. Too bad Leonardo shouldered more than he should have on Donatello, because now he was without a plan once more. He mentally cursed Raphael for… well, being Raphael. And taking the situation to unnecessary heights.

_What situation?_ Leonardo could not ignore that he was driven crazy being left out of the loop. The lighter side of Leonardo's mind convinced him it was something petty. Raphael broke a tool or Donatello said a hurtful phrase that left them both uninterested in consoling the disturbance; an issue definitely out of proportion. Leonardo secretly hoped the case was that simple. And then he could prevent it from happening again with the lesson they would learn tonight.

Donatello was blaring. What exactly happened to them, to make even the peaceful one start screaming? His things had been broken before. The genius was truly out of character. It definitely had to be something Raphael did.

Leonardo decided his next course of action. He wanted to relieve their argument for the moment, and talk to them each individually tomorrow. Then, he could piece together the incident, and inform which of his brothers who was the culprit. He assumed his father would do something similar, so no reason to involve the aged Master if he could avoid it. It was a good plan. Time to carry it into action.

The eldest turtle casually placed his book to his side on the couch and lifted himself away, preparing his move. Michelangelo stared over at him, eyes wide open as if Leonardo was about to release helon gas (sucks all the oxygen out of the room immediately, causing death) into the chamber with Raphael and Donatello. Maybe, in a way, the youngest was right.

Leonardo offered his baby brother a reassuring smile. Given the current situation, it was not completely genuine, but the endeavor was accepted. Michelangelo turned his attention back to his comics as if by no means interrupted.

It dawned on Leonardo that the poor turtle had presumably grown immune to the arguments, compliments of the two oldest. That was something he needed to change when he got the chance, though he strongly believed the probability relied primarily on Raphael's maturity.

Michelangelo looked up, surprised to see Leonardo still staring at him, instead of breaking up the yelling match that still sounded to be escalating. "Uh, dude…" He added with little grace, pointing towards the door when he heard Donatello's voice peak.

So the turtle was not completely immune after all. Leonardo caught a glimpse of fear on Michelangelo's face as none of them had ever really had the pleasure of hearing Donatello at such extremes. Had Leonardo not been fearless, or generally needing to be the stronger of the pair at the moment, he may have felt something similar.

"Leo, You gotta stop them before Donnie gets combobulated." Michelangelo's voice and second look broke his gaze, and Leonardo turned towards the dojo to break up the fight Just like Michelangelo, he had a feeling Raphael would get the upper hand with the gentle Donatello if push came to shove. Hopefully they had not resorted to violence.

A lecture was forming in his head. It was a natural gift, the way a lesson would just flow from him. Sure, Raphael never appreciated it, but it was a good quality, none the less. The ability to revive order to chaos was a strong leadership quality, and he prepared to flex that skill.

Raphael's booming voice dominated the air waves right outside the doorway, and he could barely make out the words. The hothead had resorted to insult flinging, insulting Donatello's intelligence. He would definitely have to address that in his lecture, without alluding to the fact he was listening. Leonardo cautiously grabbed the door handle and quietly turned it, still dotting the I's and crossing the T's to his prepared speech.

The door glided open without a hitch, and he only met silence. Voices had stopped as if on cue. The room was dead still. Leonardo was floored himself, perfectly quiet as if part of the scenery. His lecture completely disintegrated from his mind.

Across the room, Donatello and Raphael stood in such close quarters, one could almost mistake it for a romantic gesture. Donatello's beak hung just below Raphael's. They were tense and staring deeply at one another. Raphael's face was the only one he could clearly see, as Donatello's shell was to the door. The hothead seemed surprised as well, but nothing compared to what Leonardo was experiencing. Plus, Raphael did not look the least bit deterred.

As the scene unfolded in front of his eyes, Leonardo was soundless. He very much preferred the screaming he heard just before.

Leonardo needed to catch up with himself. His presence was unnoticed. Mainly because his two brothers were too busy with a incident of their own, one he realized that was far beyond any problem he anticipated. Leonardo activated his reserve will power to keep his head from exploding, not for fear of disturbing the duo's highly concentrated, intimate staring contest, doubting they would notice anyway, but for his own sake. Gradually, Donatello's hands were resting on Raphael's chest, like a train wreck in slow motion. Leonardo did not notice his own mouth gaping. Or the flabbergasted stare he offered. But he could not look away. His jaw was floored, and for once in his life, Leonardo could not collect his thoughts or tongue, to say something.

Mere seconds had passed, but it was enough. Leonardo wanted nothing more than to bolt, but there he was, feet practically glued to the cement from utter shock. He was a forced bystander at this point. Nothing could convince his limbs to respond, or his voice to scream in protest.

Until golden orbs shot his direction.

Leonardo and Raphael's eyes met from across the room, and that was the freedom he required. Instantaneously, he was out the doorway and it was closed behind him, his presence still practically traceless. Years of stealth kept him from slamming the door. He stepped to the side in an attempt to catch his breath. _When did he stop breathing?_

A moment later, he caught the door from nailing him in the face, as a speedy Raphael darted out of the dojo. Things were falling back in line, reality was setting in, and Leonardo knew it was time to act. So he tried, but was outright resisted. The ninja stalked after Raphael, who bee-lined towards the lair exit. "Where are you going?" Leonardo realized he really had nothing profound to say as his thoughts swam behind him, unable to truly catch up.

Raphael only moved faster without response. "Raphael, stop!" Leonardo shouted. The hothead activated the automatic door. "Why aren't you listening to me?" Leonardo raced to the exit, but Raphael surely won as he rounded the doorway into the sewers.

"Fuck off!" The turtle shouted back, as Leonardo hit the threshold.

Leonardo had no intentions of following him, as he had another witness to interrogate. Raphael left his sights for good.

"Donatello?" The leader whipped back around and managed to get to the center of the room before he heard the slamming of Donatello's laboratory door. The locking mechanisms sounded off directly after.

Leonardo stood there, completely dumbfounded, looking back towards the lair exit, that was now automatically closing, and then to Donatello's locked laboratory.

"Uhh.." Michelangelo filled the silence with his intelligent interjection. His comic book occupied the cement underneath him and he was fully standing near the couch, watching the same chaotic mess as Leonardo.

Michelangelo awkwardly inquired, his voice echoing through the home in an uncomfortable manner, as if the entire place was suddenly stripped of signs of life.

"I'm guessing they didn't make up."

* * *

Since I am writing this for a contest, it all has to be published by May 1. So I have to start doing 3 a week instead of 2. Enjoy!


	10. Purple, Cross the Line

**Genesis**

Turtlecest, raphxdon – Because everything has to start somewhere…

Disclaimer: If I owned the turtles, it wouldn't be a kiddie show.

Warnings: turtlecest, yaoi, turtle on turtle action, slash, mature: are you sure you are in the right place? Be weary or your brain might implode.

Chapter Ten – Purple, Cross the Line

* * *

…_Beep. Beep. Beep..._

Donatello felt completely weightless and did his best to mentally convince the offensive sound to go away.

…_Beep. Beep. Beep..._

His attempts were unfruitful.

The turtle groaned and shifted his body, wanting nothing more than to swing back into dreamless sleep. Slowly, though, much to his disappointment, Donatello was crawling out of the black hole his brain had dug for the night and growing more aware of his surroundings. How unfortunate.

The maddening beeps continued, as he shook his head back into reality. He had some wild ride the night before apparently, finding it difficult to even move. As his eyes opened, he realized he was in the dim lights of his laboratory instead of his comfortable bedroom. And his thighs were extremely chilled thanks to the cement floor he called his bed for the night. _Why did I sleep on the floor?_

His mental powers were of no use. Donatello wondered how long he listened to that mind-numbing beeping before he even realized what it was. His computer screen blinked wildly, excited to share the news of his latest experiment. The test was complete. The DNA test results were ready, and only an enter button away.

Donatello did not know if he even wanted to see them. If he ever wanted to see them, for that matter. Yesterday, the results had been his salvation. Today, they would only condemn him. He cowered from the thought of getting up and reading the screen, or the printed form blowing lightly on the edge of his printer. That was a mission for another moment. As for now, he focused on how he wound up on the ground.

Donatello attempted to flex his legs first, discovering stiffness had set in thanks to his current position. His head leaned back and thudded against the locked laboratory door. Recognition of the locks was what sent him back down memory lane. His thoughts traced back to the instant he enabled them the night before. Memories started trickling in, and he would soon fully realize exactly why he had barricaded himself in his lab, and blocked the door with his own body as if someone would try to break in.

The obnoxious beeping was not going to stop until he did something. Too bad, because it was drilling into his skull like a jack hammer. He had no desire to see the results. Did they really matter? They had almost kissed, he was sure of it. There was no evidence that they were related. No evidence they were not. And neither, for that one quick moment, seemed to really care. Five seconds of weakness, and there they were, on the verge of locking beaks. And five seconds later, they promptly freaked out.

Relation no longer mattered. Donatello had completely ignored the chances. Even if they were minuscule, there was a chance. And that was appalling for the turtle, who was still trying to tackle the thought of even being attracted to someone of the same sex. He had crossed a terrifying line, and there was no telling what was going to happen now.

"Ugh." Donatello quietly complained as he stretched out one arm in hopes it would help lift him from the ground. First things, first. Donatello had to get his freezing tail off the floor. He needed another minute, a minute he was happy to take. Again, his head hit the door behind him, softly this time.

The door was securely locked, an action he rarely performed. All three locks were activated, and somehow, he still felt like he needed to personally hold the crowds back by blocking the entrance. And that was where he passed out, crumpled up against the door, bound and determined to keep anyone from entering.

No one had disturbed him through the night, come to find out. No charging Leonardo or inquisitive Michelangelo.

Raphael did not have a change of heart.

His body felt very uncomfortable. Even for the genius who constantly fell asleep at his work station, this was bad. An emotional stress was weighing him down as well. He was surely going to have another bad run at practice this morning.

_Practice_! Donatello jumped up to his feet now, finally finding that motivation he needed. His aches turned more into minor annoyances as he prepared to move around his laboratory with decent energy. The second he attempted to step, he tripped over his sleeping feet and collapsed into his computer chair. Under an overturned book, he found exactly what he was looking for: the digital clock lacked the good news he was hoping for. It was almost noon.

Instantly, he was at his door, shaking his prickly feet and struggling with the locks. No matter what was happening or what drama the brothers were causing, as long as their daily exercises were conducted, then their master let them settle things on their own, for the most part. But when practices started suffering due to their behavior, it was cause for worry for their father. The idea of a total meltdown of their routine would never sit calmly with the Master. While there was still blood surging through his veins, his sons would be ninja, for their protection. The breakdown of habit would be the biggest indication Donatello could throw that something was wrong. Not to mention, his father would start asking questions. Questions, Donatello basically had no idea how to answer.

With no time to be nervous, Donatello swung open the door and ran into the family room, his head full of excuses why he missed the practice. They were all true, just skewed and lacking any real detail. That would be suspicious, but it was all he had.

Donatello winced upon entering the main room. The room was completely deserted. He felt like time moved on without him for a moment, and this was a place in the far off future. Master Splinter was not watching his stories, or pausing them, realizing it was time for a heart filled conversation. No Michelangelo or Leonardo with sickened, disapproving eyes. And no Raphael.

It was a rare event indeed to see the main living area so deserted. It was the only area with any real space to breathe. And yet, for some reason, everyone seemed to be elsewhere. Donatello had no idea what to think, and could not shake of the peculiar feeling that something was happening without his knowledge.

The ninja forgot his bo in his bedroom, but he knew immediately he would not need it. Their training session ended hours ago. He was beyond tardy.

Donatello glanced at the dojo door. It was wide open. The light was dim, which was strange, because he had not installed electrical options for such a setting. He began to move towards it, tip toeing as if the ninja actually need the extra assistance to not be noticed. After a quiet, but deep breath, he peeked inside.

One of his brothers was meditating thoughtfully by candlelight in the center of the average sized room. The shadows on the wall were motionless, though when Donatello looked in, the candle performed the tiniest flicker ever recorded. He was stunned the eldest had not noticed. Or at least, Leonardo chose not to react.

Donatello could not fight the fear that Leonardo knew. _Could he? Did he?_ His insides started to feel cold and tingly, like a slower form of shock. It proved to be more tantalizing than any abrupt realization.

_Leonardo always knows._

He felt completely creeped out by Leonardo's Zen-like appearance. He was there, unmoving, for God knows how long. Probably since the practice ended hours ago. It was like Leonardo was… waiting for him.

One of Leonardo's eyes opened, directly staring at the entrance, where he ungracefully occupied. Donatello gulped. Donatello felt his entire world crumbling down around him, and he received the strong desire to confess to Leonardo everything before he was faced with accusations instead.

Donatello neither moved nor spoke. Leonardo's expression changed to something less all-knowing; a look Donatello did not anticipate. Unexpectedly, the leader seemed perplexed. His eye ridge moved upward as if asking a question with his eyes. Question. He was disturbing Leonardo's meditation.

Leonardo was not waiting for him. Donatello was instantly lightened. _Leonardo was not waiting for me!_

Maybe he did not know.

Maybe Leonardo had no idea why Donatello was disrupting him. The eldest turtle was just trying to meditate. Not wait. Donatello fought the urge to just laugh out loud, for no explainable reason, except somewhere in the back of his head just released a massive amount of stress built up over the events since last night. He managed to stare blankly, and keep his happiness filed away, instead of make a giant ass of himself.

Maybe he was - -

A gruff voice from behind him interrupted his internal celebration and sent shivers down his spine.

"Move."

* * *

Short, but time for a perspective change. =o)


	11. Red, Summoned

**Genesis**

Turtlecest, raphxdon – Because everything has to start somewhere…

Disclaimer: If I owned the turtles, it wouldn't be a kiddie show.

Warnings: turtlecest, yaoi, turtle on turtle action, slash, mature: are you sure you are in the right place? Be weary or your brain might implode.

Chapter Eleven – Red, Summoned

* * *

Raphael violently halted when he saw the flash of purple obstructing his view of Leonardo. Had he not caught his stomach, it may have emptied on the living room floor. The rest of the figure soon materialized as he slowly put the pieces together. Donatello was standing between him and his destination. Raphael could not remember the last time a shockwave hit him so hard, and if anything, it only flushed his mood further into the crapper. Begrudgingly, he had to proceed, despite his greater interests in turning around and heading right back up the staircase.

The hothead wished Donatello was not standing there. Nothing he had ever done compared to how he felt. Raphael would bet money his brain just transformed into pudding. Nothing seemed to make sense anymore. The inarticulate turtle's thoughts swirled abhorrently in his cranium. Moving was a lot more difficult than it should be.

He did not know what to do. Or what to say. But a pleasant and familiar persona started to ease his pain and confusion. Raphael let it take over enthusiastically as his more aggressive side offered to take the reins. Anger was familiar territory for Raphael. He could bask in its warmth and it would shield him from whatever Donatello could possibly say as he stepped off towards his meeting with Leonardo.

That was right. He had been summoned. Of course Leonardo knew. The nosey ninja overstepped boundaries by spying on him last night. But Raphael could not explain what the leader saw. He would have nothing to tell Leonardo when the interrogation started. Raphael did not even understand himself. One second, he was screaming obscenities at his most kind-hearted brother, and the next…

Raphael wanted nothing more than to forget what happened. He ran away, like he always did, and found no comfort in the outside world. Out there, he was all by himself. No one knew he even existed. There was Casey, but he and April were gone for the week, taking up invitations from family to continue the celebration of their engagement.

He drank; oh how he drank. And he broke one of the few rules he set for himself, unbeknownst to the others. He drank alone.

But he did not forget what happened. The memories constantly put his common sense under siege, leaving him nowhere to turn to but towards his anger. If only he was capable of drowning them away, but Raphael was positive that not even the liquor store on 94th and Lexington had enough alcohol to do the job; diminish the memory of what he almost did.

So he would just have to deal.

His pause was brief and unnoticed. He knew what he had to do, no matter how painful it was going to be. Leonardo requested his company, and unlike usual, there was no ignoring it. Because if he refused to cooperate, then Leonardo would just as fast turn to Donatello for the answers he wanted. And Raphael wanted Donatello to stay as far back from this mess as he could manage.

"Move." Raphael never stopped his barrage. Before Donatello could actually react, the hothead had already plowed past him, their shoulders colliding with no restraint. The genius stumbled back, both out of instinct to regain his balance and to do as he was told. Raphael refused to meet the gaze of the turtle that he could feel burning through the back of his skull.

Raphael did everything in his power to avoid it, but as he slammed the door in Donatello's face, he caught that wide-eyed confused set of eyes staring back at him. It was for the best. If he treated Donatello anything other than callously, Leonardo may lose that cool sense of composure he had been building all morning.

Playing Leonardo was his expertise. His field of study. Raphael was not going to make any rookie mistakes today. Not for his sake, but for Donatello.

Leonardo summoned him, and only him. This was the best news so far out of the entire ordeal. Raphael knew the conditions, so there was no reason for him to ask. Leonardo wanted this to disappear quietly. And if Raphael cooperated, then it would. It was best just to keep Donatello uninvolved.

Heat was already radiating off of him, as he had little to no organization of his thoughts. In honestly, he was in absolute terrible shape to be going toe to toe with Leonardo on this. He barely understood what was happening and could only rely on Leonardo's own since of astonishment.

It was a stupid thing for Raphael to do. He got too close, and for heaven's sake had no idea why. Tensions were high, words were flying, and he just slipped from control. A control he always vowed to keep around his brothers, for their protection; protection from violence usually, not… whatever last night's episode was turning into. And control slipped away at the worst possible moment. It was a moment of weakness. And it would cost him dear.

Without even a smart ass announcement of his arrival, Raphael kneeled in front of Leonardo so their … negotiations could commence. The candlelight was actually comforting. He could easily read the expressions on Leonardo's face and body. Of course, Leonardo was granted the same privilege. But also, the idea of bright lights did not set well with Raphael at the moment. The less like an interrogation this felt, the easier he could deal. No doubt, that was Leonardo's intentions. Because Leonardo was an expert at this game, too.

Raphael took the opportunity to clear his mind. The silence was a clear invitation to do so. It was difficult, but some of the clouds were lifting. He felt he had a mission and the path illuminated. As one of the oldest, he had to be the responsible one. And he had to do whatever Leonardo wanted to save his family. To save Donatello. Anger would push him through, somehow, as his battery and strength, but his absolute loyalty to his brothers would make it possible.

Even Leonardo. Because what Leonardo was doing was right.

"Confide in me, Raphael." Leonardo started off, his voice serene and calm. He obviously practiced all morning. "Tell me everything that has happened."

Raphael hated his position. He hated it so hard. "You'll think I'm lyin, but nothin." He played his voice, just right, sounding as humble as he could make it. He could not hide the subtle hints of feeling dejected, though.

Leonardo opened his eyes. "There is something."

Raphael took a deep breath and let it out. "I didn't know. I didn't know I was gonna do that." Raphael truthfully blurted. He was careful in his words, to the best of his ability, but frustration and the feeling that he could actually have someone to talk to about it waged an internal battle. Leonardo was not his enemy, but as the semi-head of the family, he was authority. Raphael naturally sought to dismantle authority.

Leonardo kept staring at him, waiting for Raphael to take action. But the turtle remained still, as Leonardo did not fully understand his brother's capabilities. Raphael rarely acted without a determining factor. He had to be provoked. He had to offer a reaction to an action. It was Leonardo who always performed such actions and now, as the eldest sat back to watch, very little was occurring.

Raphael completely realized that he was being so vague and sounding fuzzy on the details. He had nothing of significance to report to Leonardo of his interactions with Donatello. But the turtle could not bring himself to spit out useless details or even try to tell of the events that led to the night before. He could neither order them chronologically nor spin them like a fairy tale. Raphael was naturally defensive, and part of that was to maintain information on a need to know basis; keep everything close to the chest until he had to absolutely give it up.

This caused a problem. The entire circumstance sounded worse than it really was. There was an 'almost kiss' and nothing more. Raphael's inability to accurately state that one simple sentence was practically telling Leonardo there had been more intimate sessions. The hothead fully realized this, but all he could do was fume, grit his teeth, and stare at the floor with nothing else to say.

Leonardo stared emotionlessly at his younger brother for quite a while. Raphael could feel his brother's eyes moving over his body, waiting for any slip up. "You understand that it's not… natural." Leonardo let out his first indication of stress as he paused to consider his words. "We're bro-"

"I know. I know." Raphael's aggression raged inside his body, heating the room around him. "It was a mistake."

"Brothers." Leonardo felt it was impertinent to finish the statement. Raphael visually disapproved. Like hearing it lashed at his inner morality.

"Has there been any –" Leonardo started and Raphael basically read his mind.

"Damn it, Leo. No." Raphael grew disturbed with the questions. He knew exactly what Leonardo was trying to ask and he could not hold everything in for that. He would never do anything so perverse with Donatello. At least he seriously thought that until last night. Raphael growled and bit his tongue, not to say anything more. He was at Leonardo's mercy and it would do him good to remember that. Leonardo was the leader of the family and also the thin wall between what happens in the household and what their father found out.

Raphael said nothing. He kept his gaze at the ground between them, grinding his teeth each time he felt the urge to interject or stab Leonardo in the face.

"I would like to talk to Donatello about it." Leonardo said after a long pause.

"NO." Raphael shouted, the first time in their conference. "No, Leo." His second go around was almost more of a plea. The turtle constantly avoided eye contact as Leonardo attempted. "I'm supposed ta be the responsible one." He added with more gall. "Leave 'em out of this."

Leonardo looked to the side, no longer assaulting Raphael with his gaze. Raphael, on the other hand launched a murderous stare at Leonardo. He could not contain himself on this one. "I mean it, Leo." Raphael stated it as serious as he could muster for the moment, but yet again his voice carried a certain hint of dependence.

They sat in silence for a while, plans formulating. The air started to cool as Raphael lost some of his heat. He was being extremely submissive for him. It was not his normal demeanor. Leonardo possibly did not know how to deal with the situation, either.

"I'll take care of it, Leo." Raphael finally piped up.

Leonardo glanced over. Raphael looked up. And their eyes met in silent agreement. Raphael finally understood that Leonardo did not actually want to have his hands in this mess at all. The turtle was shocked, confused, and wanted the entire dilemma to just fade away.

And Raphael did not blame him. That was what he wanted, too.

Leonardo pressed his lips together, knowing it was his turn to say something. "Then this is your responsibility." He finally concluded.

"Leave Donnie out of this." Raphael pushed forward again. He would not be happy until Leonardo promised.

Leonardo took a deep breath, a brave mood. It was obvious the two were not battling here, the field they were both so used to. They were coming to a similar finale. He was making sure at no point he had lost control. And by doing so, offered Raphael a hint of his own uncertainty towards the current events.

"I agree."

* * *

Here's the scoop: Every story needs an antagonist. Obviously with my limited characters, it is going to be a brother or father. Leonardo's a perfect candidate. But really, you can't hate the guy. And so, here he is, just befuddled and bothered by the whole thing, wanting to just make it go away. That's reasonable. He is not being a jerk. So no Leo-hate =o)


	12. Purple, Outside Perspective

**Genesis**

Turtlecest, raphxdon – Because everything has to start somewhere…

Disclaimer: If I owned the turtles, it wouldn't be a kiddie show.

Warnings: turtlecest, yaoi, turtle on turtle action, slash, mature: are you sure you are in the right place? Be weary or your brain might implode.

Chapter 12 – Purple, Outside Perspective

* * *

Donatello knew he was setting himself up for heartache. On the other side of that door, Leonardo was railing Raphael hardcore about what happened, he just knew it. And his turn would be next. Not that he did not deserve it. There was a certain romance to both Raphael and him facing the Inquisitor, stating their cases and trying not to lose their heads in the process. But what would he say? And how was Leonardo taking Raphael's side of the story?

He paced up and down the living room, nervous of the verdict and pending his own trial. Donatello did not know how much time passed since Raphael first went in there; he had no idea how long he waited. Eventually, he settled for a less than comfortable lean on one of their old couches and kept a vigil eye on the dojo door.

And the door crashed open sometime later, causing him to flail his arms as if the very pressure from the door swing was going to knock him over onto the couch. He kept his balance, and had the mood been lighter, it would have been very embarrassing. Today, no one cared.

Raphael hastily made his way towards the staircase, determined to lock himself back in his bedroom. And for the moment, Donatello found the courage to intervene. He stepped into the ninja's path, but Raphael failed to even notice, it would seem. No eye contact. No consideration what so ever. Raphael blasted past Donatello and the genius's heart dropped into his stomach. He slowly turned to watch Raphael climb the staircase and then slam the door to his own bedroom.

What had he expected to happen? Donatello did not know. But that was not it. Raphael's frigid behavior that afternoon was stabbing Donatello in places he never knew could hurt. But logic was there to comfort him, this go around. What alternative was there, really? Raphael was not going to simply lift him in the air and kiss him after a few twirls, like the ending to a cheesy movie. This was their life. And a relationship was not possible.

Donatello had long since determined Leonardo's knowledge of the situation. But how did the leader even find out? Raphael would not even talk to Donatello about it, so why would he blurt it to Leonardo? And Donatello most certainly had not realized it even in time to inform his eldest brother. The frustrated turtle stared at the closed door for a few more seconds. Leonardo must have used a secret ninja psychic meditation. That was the only way. The guy was so creepy sometimes.

Gentle footsteps brought him back to reality and he turned to see Leonardo leaving the dojo, in much less of a hurry than Raphael. Donatello's heart sunk further, as if there was any space left for it. He had no idea what to say. What he was expected to say.

"Hi, Don." Leonardo evenly said. The elder calmly walked by without a second glance.

Donatello did not notice anything out of the ordinary about the turtle. No wicked looks or nervous twitches. Leonardo was just like Leonardo as if everything was going according to plan. Donatello just stood there, limbs loose to his side, completely surprised by the nothing that was happening.

Then, Leonardo stopped a few feet from the kitchen and turned his body half way around so that he could see Donatello once more. Donatello stared, waiting for his tongue lashing. He almost craved it. "How are you feeling today, Don?" Leonardo casually said. "I decided to let you sleep in since you never miss practice."

Donatello just gawked at the leader, unable to hide anything. His eyes were wide as if they were going to fall and splatter all over the concrete floor. His throat felt dry, and only made a slight sound as he tried to say something. He could not force his mind to cooperate as if everything was just okay, like Leonardo somehow managed.

"I see I made the right decision." Leonardo smiled at his younger brother. "But don't get used to it. If I go easy on you, Michelangelo's going to try to get away with missing an entire week."

Casual conversation. Absolutely mind blowing. Donatello had to get a grip on himself. Donatello slowly nodded his understanding to Leonardo, still unable to fully control his outward shock of what was happening.

"Are you going to make practice tomorrow?" Leonardo peacefully questioned.

Donatello nodded.

"Good." Leonardo placed his hands together in front of him in approval. "Have you had anything to eat today?" Leonardo pointed over his shoulder to the kitchen with his thumb. "I was just about to prepare father's tea, if you would like me to make you a late lunch."

Donatello shook his head slowly. Leonardo's kindness was going to kill him.

"If you do not eat anything, you know I will have to tell Mikey. And he isn't going to let you get any work done." Leonardo sounded so normal. Not like a monster trying to ruin his light or condemn him out of the lair. He sounded like his older brother, just trying to take care of everyone.

Donatello offered a half smile back, finally, after more than a few seconds of delay. "I will grab something later." He lied.

And Leonardo accepted his lie. The turtle simply nodded his head in return and continued his trek into the kitchen. No dirty glances or inquiring stares.

Donatello looked down at the floor, analyzing his situation. Leonardo was his typical self. And that was the problem. Leonardo and Raphael were just in a fight. Right? Leonardo was never normal after that. Or anything resembling content.

Donatello took a few steps into the living room, purposely escaping the areas Leonardo could see him from the kitchen. He looked up to the second floor, where three bedroom doors lined the wall. Raphael's door caught his attention specifically.

Donatello wanted to casually walk up the stairs and knock on his brother's door, a move that, just two days ago, would have been completely acceptable. But he had nothing to say, or at least, things that by no means needed to be said. For the moment, silence was best.

A loud, obnoxious music started pouring into the house, from that very room. Raphael definitely wanted to be left alone. He could only assume the music was so loud that Raphael hoped it would keep him from being able to hear his own thoughts. Donatello, for a moment, thought it would be an interesting theory to test.

He noticed movement towards the kitchen and instinctively looks over. His eldest brother had moved closer into the living area, noticing the disturbance. Leonardo's head quickly turned from Raphael's door, and he moved back to continue his preparations, as if trying to hide the fact he ever became aware of the disruptive music invading their home.

There was a gnawing feeling at his conscious that, perhaps he was the one acting out of line. Everything that was happening was because of him. And there was still a chance Leonardo did not know what happened the night before. Donatello felt willing to accept that his own paranoia was building a scenario that was simply not happening.

Everyone else seemed to be following routine. He was the only factor truly standing out. Raphael was always a dick. Michelangelo was gorging on something, locked up in his room in a rare instance. Leonardo was concerned for all in his free time, trying to care for them. He was not building a witch burning pyre to cleanse his brothers of evil spirits. He was making their father tea. There was a chance Donatello had not caused any harm. His imagination was running wild with the scene. And the feeling elated his sour mood.

Donatello decided he could not sit there all day. He still had a lot of thinking to do. The entire past twenty-four hours needed to be thoroughly analyzed. He needed an objective.

The turtle casually walked towards his laboratory and closed the door softly behind him. This time, he felt no need for the locks.

A familiar beeping noise greeted him instantly and Donatello looked at his computer like he was about to behold the second coming.

The genius immediately rushed over to his computer station and shook the mouse to get the screen to stop sleeping. He moused over to the "Retrieve Results" option and hesitated. He glanced over to his printer, the one connected to the machine responsible for the testing, and started searching his mind for reasons to delay. He found none.

The test results were complete. He had forgotten again that he even ran the stupid thing. Yesterday felt so different today, and he was not sure if he was prepared for the answers.

Prepared or not, he pushed the button. A slow loading process followed, with actual scale comparisons of their DNA on the screen. Moments later, his old printer started to churn, a second page with more comprehensible results started to materialize. The comparison form was heavily scientific and would require further study. But the analysis, currently printing, would tell him within seconds the answer to his question.

There was nothing left to delay upon. This was the obvious next step for him to take. With a shaky hand, Donatello reached for the freshly printed results.

And he flung the piece of paper to the side, instantly wanting it out of his sight. For a moment he felt compelled to burn it, as if it would serve in evidence to his future convictions. The turtle grumbled and leaned so far back in his chair, it started to protest.

"I knew it."

* * *

Secrets don't make friends, Donnie. =o)


	13. Orange, Picking up the Pieces

**Genesis**

Turtlecest, raphxdon – Because everything has to start somewhere…

Disclaimer: If I owned the turtles, it wouldn't be a kiddie show.

Warnings: turtlecest, yaoi, turtle on turtle action, slash, mature: are you sure you are in the right place? Be weary or your brain might implode.

Chapter 13 – Orange, Picking up the Pieces

* * *

For the first time in years, Michelangelo woke up the moment his alarm clock started to buzz. It was quite a feat. He had even prepared for the venture, drinking no soda after 2 P.M. the day before so that his body would conk out on command.

It totally did. He would have to remember that trick next time they had to drive up to the old farm. Who knew the sudden lack of caffeine would have such an effect on the turtle?

Michelangelo jumped out of his bed and silenced the alarm. It was six in the morning, an entire hour before he was expected to be at their morning practice. But this was a special occasion. His expert maneuvering was required. And Michelangelo was sure this would be the day.

Michelangelo absolutely hated the transaction between the warm bed and damp air of the lair, but that was a noble sacrifice he had to make. There was no yelling or visual confrontations the night before. The brothers all seem to act like themselves at dinner time. Leonardo was a turtle genius and he had stopped the hurricane that was sweeping through the lair on a daily basis the last couple of weeks.

And now it was Michelangelo's job to pick up the pieces and restore true order. His brothers were acting weird, and that just was not cool in his book. Leonardo appeared to break the ice yesterday, and so the road to recovery had been paved.

The first stop on their hopefully not-so-long journey was the best damned breakfast the turtle had ever made. No, _created_. Setting the right mood this morning would have the brothers laughing again in no time.

And his home would no longer feel like an empty shell.

Michelangelo exaggerated his yawn like he often did and stretched his arms high above his head. Two birds with one stone, really. Leonardo was out the stress of trying to get him up this morning, too. His gift to the leader.

Quietly he set out towards the kitchen to make his preparations. He would not actually start cooking until after the morning run, but no sense wasting all this time he thought he would be using to pry himself out of his covers.

The lair was dark and silent, the way it had been for way too many days since Donatello and Raphael started fighting. The two never seemed to talk before. Michelangelo had no idea why their lack of talking now was leading to such a disaster. Even Leonardo was feeling the effects. Michelangelo could see the strain on his face when the eldest thought no one was looking. The way Leonardo would lean instead of stand in darkened corners; his prolonged periods of closing his eyes and trying not to let things invade his conscious. The leader had patterns, and the dude was super stressed out.

Michelangelo accepted the silent challenge to make each day perfect for his brothers until the mess entirely vanished. Then he could comfortably go on being his lazy, loved self once everyone even took the time to remember he still lived there.

After he placed several pots and pans on the counter, followed by non-perishable food items he would need following practice, Michelangelo wandered into the dojo. For the first time, ever, he saw what the dojo looked like early in the morning before the lights had been switched on. He never beat Leonardo here before. Chances were, no one ever got here before Leonardo. It was about thirty minutes until practice, and Leonardo should have actually been already training, according to his supreme schedule. The turtle was doing worse than Michelangelo originally thought.

"Michelangelo?"

Michelangelo yelped and jumped up into the air, turning around to face Leonardo in the dark. "Gah, warn a dude."

Leonardo reached over and switched on the lights. He continued to eye Michelangelo with absolute suspicion, as if the bulb was going to blow with some chemical concoction and cause the training session to be cancelled for the morning. "What are you doing up?"

"Hey, practice starts in half an hour." Michelangelo pointed to his risk to an imaginary watch. The turtle moved further into the room and took his usual spot. A long time ago, their master had tried to break them of having 'usual spots' but eventually decided some habits were not nearly as bad as others.

Michelangelo smiled sheepishly to Leonardo as he started his morning stretches, _without being told_. He was absolutely amused by Leonardo's desire to find something fishy about the situation, so he said nothing. Silence would add to the false impression.

Leonardo moved to the front of the room and decided to do the same. He gave his youngest brother one last scrutinizing look before accepting that the guy turned responsible overnight. Or if he had other reasons in mind, he was not showing it.

Michelangelo detested the quiet and went through the habitual patterns as he hoped Leonardo would divulge some of what he knew. "Anything new today?"

Leonardo was no idiot, Michelangelo knew that. Of course he was 'referring' to practice, but they had not actually learned anything particularly new in years. They were masters of their art. "No, just fine toning." Leonardo responded casually. Whether or not he heard the hidden meaning, Michelangelo could not tell.

Michelangelo was extremely empathetic, but reading Leonardo was his hardest challenge. The turtle spent years upon years building up resistances to releasing emotion, the very releases Michelangelo used to read the others. Leonardo was a wall. But sometimes, that wall was not as sturdy as it seemed, and this week had definitely been one of those points.

It was time for Operation: Blue. Make Leonardo spill. "Ya gotta tell Raph and Donnie I beat you here, or I will, you know?" Michelangelo tried to joke, but he was much more interested in including those two names in his conversation than to reach any punch line.

"That's up to you." Leonardo stretched his hands to his toes with little effort.

Michelangelo did the same. "Aw, come on. It'd mean more coming from you. This is a big day for me!" He mimicked the way Leonardo stretched as a small gesture of flattery.

"Make it a habit and they will find out on their own." Leonardo smoothly said. Leonardo was a slippery fellow. Getting him to squeal was next to impossible. But Michelangelo was the baby. He had certain powers the others could not even dream of possessing, thanks to his absolute adorable nature.

Michelangelo glanced towards the door and back at Leonardo. "You think they'll both make it today?" He referred to Donatello's absence yesterday. Donatello missed practice with no reports of ill health, and that was truly bizarre. Michelangelo could not believe he got away with it!

"Yes." Leonardo wiggled his arms in a manner to get his blood flowing.

_That's it?_ Michelangelo internally struggled to find the right thing to say to pop Leonardo's information bubble. Obviously whatever was happening was eating away at the turtle, and Leonardo did nothing to quell his curiosity. "If I was gone, I'da totally got reamed, dude." Michelangelo watched Leonardo's face, but the ninja's features did not budge. "He must'a been some kinda sick."

Leonardo's nose fidgeted. He did not like what Michelangelo said, but had no following comments. How lame.

"Well I hope I don't catch what he has." Michelangelo earned a look from Leonardo and he took advantage of the attention to perform a choking grapple with himself. "Cant.. come ta… practice." He fell to one knee as if really struggling.

Leonardo looked far from amused, but he earned his first clue. Whatever they were going through could most definitely happen to Michelangelo, too. Leonardo shot him a defensive glare when he started his joke. Like he wanted to protect him from something. It was barely a clue, and not enough to piece together what was happening.

The eldest turtle was on complete lockdown. What a drag. He was absolutely unwilling to talk about whatever was happening with his other two brothers. Michelangelo simply hated being left out. It was not like they had a huge infrastructure of turtles to go through. It was just the four of them, and when he was left out of something the other three were experiencing, that left him alone. A total bummer.

Michelangelo continued his choking routine for a moment more, until a hand from behind him smacked him upside the head. "Ow!"

"Knock it off, bonehead." Raphael's oh so loving voice chimed in. The turtle walked away from Michelangelo now and took a spot to his right.

"I have a very sensitive cranium." Michelangelo rubbed his head and stuck his tongue out at Raphael.

"Musta been all those times you landed on it." Raphael went through his own stretching now, as it were boring. He just went through the motions as usual. The turtle was distracted, and angrier than usual, but at least he had the common decency to make fun of his baby brother. "Explains a lot."

"Har, har." Michelangelo turned back towards Leonardo. Ah, the good old days of bickering with Raphael. If things would just get back to normal, then he would not even care if he got left out of the loop on this one, silly thing.

Michelangelo could absolutely see the energy escaping Raphael's body, like swivels in a comic book. The turtle was still on edge. But at least he decided to show up and be civil. Michelangelo definitely would not push it. From the corner of his eye, he watched as Raphael's tempo sped up. Instead of just warming up, the hothead was going through full fledged moves, and just watching him was making Michelangelo feel tired. He had a lot of energy to burn. A lot on his mind. The dude was a fuse box ready to explode.

It must have been exactly seven when Donatello graced everyone with his presence. Michelangelo totally noticed that the turtle was on the verge of a rebellious state, but he simply could not find the balls to follow through. Showing up exactly on time, rather than early, was probably the best he could do.

Donatello walked in and stood in the back. He performed only a few minor stretches. Raphael had immediately tensed without even looking to see him. Leonardo eyed Raphael like he was about to stop a fight. And Michelangelo sat there, in the center, wondering what the heck was going on.

Leonardo announced the pairs. "Donatello, Michelangelo." He takes his place in front of Raphael. "Without weapons."

At first, he was going to say something, but he decided to swallow his words. Usually, on odd days, Michelangelo was paired with Leonardo. There were rules in the house that practices would not be affected. And yet, here he stood, off routine, constant questions streaming through his brain. Michelangelo shot Donatello an inquisitive look, but received nothing back. The turtle was a total space cadet. He searched the room but no one seemed to notice.

Michelangelo missed his nunchucku already. Hand to hand was boring. Donatello's brain was totally launched out into orbit, and Michelangelo had no problems with the distracted turtle. On the other side, Raphael and Leonardo were up to their ears with challenges. Michelangelo even noticed that Leonardo was being rougher than he would usually allow. The turtle was releasing his own vent up force. It was nothing Raphael could not handle.

For a master of empathetic behavior, Michelangelo was completely lost.

After a few runs, Michelangelo was getting absolutely nothing out of Donatello. And Leonardo noticed. For a moment, Michelangelo wanted to pretend he was at least putting up a fight, but there was no use.

"Mikey, you and Raph switch up." Leonardo said after the fourth attempt. As Michelangelo was turning his head, he swore he saw Donatello's eyes go wide, but upon further investigation, there was nothing on his face to read.

Michelangelo prepared to take on Leonardo, knowing he would need to pay attention. To his side, both his brothers readied appropriate stances. They all waited for Leonardo's signal.

"Go." Leonardo stated and he had to have broken the sound barrier to get to Michelangelo that fast. Not that it mattered. Michelangelo was faster. He ducked below the first punch and reached out for Leonardo's knee. That opportunity disappeared, and he rolled to the side as Leonardo came down with another punch. _Too close._ Michelangelo got to his feet and grabbed Leonardo's elbow out of the air, twisting it to a less threatening position. He ducked under the other arm's retaliation, and sent Leonardo into a roll across the mat. "Good." Leonardo simply praised.

Leonardo lunged again. Michelangelo reacted flawlessly, his mind paying full attention to the fight before him. He avoided two kicks in a row, and moved down to trip Leonardo onto his shell. He ducked low and held his foot out, kicking high to trip -- _Wait, what?_

Across the room, Michelangelo watched Raphael fly into the wall. And he hit it, hard. Leonardo unfortunately failed to notice the distraction, as a foot meant to be easily dodged, destined for Michelangelo's head, impacted. "Owww…" Michelangelo fell to a sitting position but looked over to watch the scene with Raphael unfold.

Leonardo placed a quick hand on Michelangelo's shoulder, meant to be a sorrowful gesture, and jumped to the wall where Raphael currently resided, shaking his head. Michelangelo hopped to his feet as well. He turned to where Donatello had just been standing, but a flash of green had just made its way out the exit door.

Things were definitely not going to get better today.

* * *

Donatello may be the gentle one, but he's still a dude.


	14. Purple, Crunch Time

**Genesis**

Turtlecest, raphxdon – Because everything has to start somewhere…

Disclaimer: If I owned the turtles, it wouldn't be a kiddie show.

Warnings: turtlecest, yaoi, turtle on turtle action, slash, mature: are you sure you are in the right place? Be weary or your brain might implode.

Chapter 14 – Purple, Crunch Time

* * *

He definitely overreacted.

Donatello leaned against his bedroom door, just knowing that in a matter of minutes, Leonardo would be pounding on it, seeking explanations and perhaps finally, 'the talk.' The visit was virtually mandatory. No doubt, Leonardo had a lecture stored away for when one of them finally threw their brother into a cement wall.

Raphael was being so… infuriating. Donatello had just lost it. He closed his eyes, replaying the scene in his mind, over and over again. He had never been made to feel like this before. Like there was something truly wrong with him.

They were paired together during practice, a common event that happened three or four times a week. It should not have been a big deal. No matter what was happening in their lives, this should have been the least of their worries.

Raphael refused to touch him. He would not attack and so Donatello took the offensive so that their practice could go seemingly normal. And Raphael _refused to touch him_, like Donatello was sick or infectious; like his skin was made of napalm.

He never fought back. Raphael just kept dodging. He did not block. Never swung or kicked. Defied tactics and avoided contact at whatever cost. And it released something Donatello had no idea he even had.

The moment was so built up; he just started reacting in ways out of his control. Not only was Raphael refusing to even graze his skin as if he would catch the repulsive disease infecting Donatello's brain, but he acted so pompous; so greater-than-thou with his fighting moves, like Donatello could never actually touch the turtle if Raphael did not want him to. Donatello proved him wrong.

He had instantly regretted his retort.

Donatello never knew the power of anger until recently, and Raphael had now driven him over the edge twice. Never in his twenty or so years had he felt anything like it, and now two times in the last week he had absolutely lost control of himself. He was disappointed.

Strangely, he was also intrigued by the realization that Raphael lived like this every day. Donatello had no idea how the hothead could ever see past the clouds of built up rage. Or how the haze was there on a constant basis in the first place. He felt nothing but empathy and guilt for the turtle, as he finally understood what it was like to be on a teetering edge. And he now knew what it was like to fall; how it felt afterwards, when he did something so stupid, common sense, had it had anything to say, would have instantly stopped it from happening.

But the moment was over. His deed was done. And all he could do now was apologize, and hope Raphael would actually believe he was sorry.

Upon pondering the circumstances, Donatello realized Raphael was shutting the door on his involvement with him. He wanted a clean cut, and that meant a long time without any interaction. Donatello could not blame him. Raphael was freaking out, and trying to run like he always did. But Donatello was caught off guard, too, and he was attempting to handle the situation to the best of his ability. If they would only work together, then they were bound to get somewhere.

They could end it together? That was Donatello's lamest thought all week. It did not take a genius to realize that if Raphael and Donatello were experiencing a chemical connection, they could not solve it by being so close. The issue was illuminated right in front of them, and decisions had to be made, separately.

Morality seemed to be in the top slot, simply asking if this was right. Donatello had to make the choice for himself, no matter what Raphael thought of it. And the same went for Raphael. Donatello knew every fact he could about the case. And they most certainly affected his decision. But he could not move on without knowing what Raphael truly felt. And it was not his place to pressure.

Donatello took a deep breath and realized that no one tried to chase him down. Leonardo never came to lecture him on his vicious outbreak. That was unacceptable from Donatello's point of view, as he knew he deserved some form of punishment. No, it seemed the house was more thrown in a loop than he had ever realized.

It was only an hour or so later when he cracked open his door, peering outside to see if anyone was actually waiting for him to emerge. There was no one. Donatello bravely stepped out with renewed strength to face the entire ordeal head on. His mission was to find Raphael, apologize, make him talk, and stand back and see what happened.

But Michelangelo caught him first. Right on the staircase, Michelangelo was preparing the interception, with a giant plate of food. The baby was getting involved, and Donatello did not like that. He preferred that poor Michelangelo be left out of this mess.

"Don! Donnie!" Michelangelo tried to get his brother's attention, rather loudly, he might add. "I made breakfast." The turtle shoved a plate upward for the descending turtle to see.

Yep, it was definitely breakfast. Donatello smiled politely at his little brother. It would take a ninja's skill to get around eating that, but he would have to, to remain on his mission. "That looks pretty good, Mikey." Donatello complemented in a low voice. Even if Michelangelo was naturally loud, Donatello did not want to scream his presence across the lair.

"Ya gotta try it." Michelangelo seem thrilled someone was finally talking to him. Donatello, unfortunately, would have to disappoint the turtle. "I made your favourite!" The turtle pointed at a pile of peeled potatoes to the left of the eggs.

"Mikey, I promise I will eat it. Later." Donatello sidestepped his brother at the last possible second, but could not help but to look back with a sympathetic smile.

"It's cool, Donnie." Michelangelo still sounded cheery, but Donatello knew better. He definitely would have to eat something to make amends with his brother. His stomach did not protest. It was actually delighted with Donatello's decision.

"Where's Raph?" Donatello quietly asked. Michelangelo simply pointed towards the back corner of the lair, where, around an awkward bend and half level staircase, Raphael had set up his punching bag. Donatello could have easily guessed. At least Raphael had not stormed off. "Thanks." He declared to Michelangelo and he set course for his new destination.

Michelangelo's footsteps crept back into the kitchen. If he knew his little brother well enough, he was in the middle of cooking everyone's favorites, in a small attempt to fix the mood. Donatello doubted it would work.

Approaching Raphael was going to be a challenge. If he marched up like he had a pair, Raphael would run away. If he seemed angry as before or in any way like he was there to get answers from Raphael, he would run away. Pretty much every scenario Donatello could imagine resulted in Raphael's vaulting. What a terrible start.

He made his presence known through slow but steady feet. He wanted to be heard and alert Raphael. Meanwhile, the hothead was abusing the stuffing out of his punching bag, sweat pouring off his body like he had been there all morning. Donatello's timid approach received no response from his brother.

Donatello knew he was sensed and after a minute or two, Raphael dulled down his punches and eventually slowly turned towards his brother. He was taking deep breaths to make up for all the work he was doing. And Donatello noticed a slight fidget in his features. The guy was nervous, but knew this was coming. And he was willing to face it.

"How are you doing?" Donatello cautiously questioned. What he was really asking was '_How is that ten foot wall I'm trying to beat down?'_

"Fine." Raphael answered, gruff and abrupt as usual. All Donatello heard was '_It's a twenty-footer now.'_

A few silent, agonizing seconds past. Neither of them moved. Raphael was looking to the side, towards another wall. Donatello was staring at Raphael, but more like through him.

"Raph, I'm sorry."

"S'ok." And Raphael immediately returned to his punching bag, like that was the end to their conversation. Apparently an apology was all Raphael was really waiting for. That was Donatello's cue to leave.

But Donatello did not go. Instead, he stood there for a minute or two, watching Raphael. This time, the hothead kept at his punching bag, pretending Donatello was not there. And he could not help the way Raphael made him feel. As Donatello realized before, he knew his answer and he needed Raphael's. He was not leaving until he got it.

Donatello just blurted it out. The only way Raphael would truthfully listen to him. And he was heard. The punching bag swung back and then forth, knocking Raphael onto his butt.

"We're not related."

* * *

Short... But does the size really matter?


	15. Red, Cat's Out of the Bag

**Genesis**

Turtlecest, raphxdon – Because everything has to start somewhere…

Disclaimer: If I owned the turtles, it wouldn't be a kiddie show.

Warnings: turtlecest, yaoi, turtle on turtle action, slash, mature: are you sure you are in the right place? Be weary or your brain might implode.

Chapter 15 – Red, Cat's Out of the Bag

* * *

The initial shock had worn off, but Raphael's cheeks were a little red from the trip straight to his ass. He tried to ignore the embarrassment, or even that the announcement had any effect on him. That was, of course, next to impossible. He could be so vain sometimes, still worrying about looking like a fool, no matter what was happening.

"Doesn't matter." Raphael spit out as he got to his feet and brushed imaginary dust off of himself. He answered in a timely manner, and that should be the end of it.

Things were getting to real again for him, and he found himself searching for the nearest exit. The only way out was right through Donatello. He hated running, but there was nothing else for him to do. He could not talk his way out of a paper bag and he felt so cornered. So trapped. This was not fair of Donatello. This was not the way he needed to find out.

The situation only grew more awkward by the second. Raphael needed nothing more than to reach his room, his sanctuary, before he screwed up anything again. Leonardo promised to stay out of it if he could handle it. And he had to do what he had to do.

He took one step past his brother and Donatello grabbed onto his arm, tightly. Raphael noticeably filched, and he internally scolded himself for it. It was a bold move for the genius, even though there was no aggressiveness behind it. Leonardo rarely braved actually attempting to grapple him when he was on the move. Donatello just did not understand.

Something in Raphael decided to risk a look at Donatello behind him, and he saw hopeful eyes staring back, completely lacking hostility of any sort. It was so hard to get angry at the turtle, but he needed his fury now more than ever. His world was starting to heavily cloud, and he did not want to do what half of him was trying so desperately to do. He had to be the responsible one.

"Raphie…" Donatello's eyes pleaded with him, begging for answers or anything Raphael was willing to give him.

…And if Raphael had not spoken with Leonardo, that would have worked. His walls would have toppled, and Donatello could have got anything he wanted. But that was not the case. "Don't call me that." Raphael tried to talk with spite, but there was no harshness to his voice. "It ain't right, Don. Lemme go." If God passed out gold stars for remaining clear headed when stuck between a rock and a hard place, Raphael would have two. Raphael had never remained so composed in such an escalated position in his life. He would have been proud, except for the nature of the circumstance.

Mentally, Raphael pointed out that Donatello had that affect on him. That calming sensation that would push the rage clouds from in front of his eyes. The genius gave him clarity. But after this afternoon's practice, it was obvious what Raphael gave him in return. And Donatello should never be pushed to such belligerent limits.

Donatello was not detoured. "Can we please talk about it?"

"No." Raphael quickly retorted. Donatello's voice was so tranquil, it was a cloudiness of its own, seeping into his mind and making his anger flee. Raphael instinctively attempted to free his arm, but he really only put in a half-effort. His torn mind yet again reminded him that what the situation would appear like if Leonardo walked by. He would get the wrong idea. Or the right idea, depending on what exactly was happening.

Those eyes continued to plea with him, but Raphael had to end this. For Donatello's sake. "Now." He summoned the last bit of rage stored away in his body, hidden away from Donatello's soothing aura. Raphael narrowed his eyes in an intimidating manner.

Donatello let his arm go.

Raphael backtracked two steps up the small staircase. It was only a few steps. He turned around fully for the corner, quickly getting away, but knowing he was not really being chased.

And Leonardo stood there in that walkway, with that smug ass look on his face. Raphael wanted to break it. He maintained his urge not to pounce on his brother, as his rage started filing back in once he was out of Donatello's company. He did not jump on him like his anger tried desperately to persuade, but Raphael elbowed Leonardo in the arm, for good measure, as he stomped his way towards the staircase leading to his bedroom. _Bastard_.

Raphael realized he had been spending way too much time in his room lately as he tromped up the stairs. It was time for a change of scenery. From the second floor balcony, he suddenly changed his mind, jumping clear off the ledge back onto the first floor. From there, he bee-lined towards the lair's exit. He needed some space. He needed air. And he needed to get the hell away from Leonardo before he released everything he was feeling right into the jackass's face.

The door opened without a hitch. Donatello was a wonderful craftsman. From there, he stomped out, and never looked back. He was growing more irritated by the moment. He definitely needed to break something.

And Raphael was far from surprised when he realized Leonardo was not trailing him. The eldest did not even try to stop him from leaving. _Fucker_.

This was his city and he knew exactly where he was going. Raphael stalked the sewers in a wondering rage for the first few minutes, until he recognized his location. Then he urgently needed fresh air, so he headed to the surface; the forbidden outside he visited constantly.

Two ladders and a few stealthy jumps later, he was on top of a high building, looking down at the city below. At least he could breathe up there. Raphael wanted to scream, but he did not bother. He did not exist to this world, so no one would hear him.

Obviously Leonardo was not in the business of worrying about his safety anymore. Not that he needed Leonardo, but he was starting to realize just how distant he was getting from his family. He spent an entire month feeling like an exile. The entire mess was his fault, so he was cast off like a tumor. Raphael may be exaggerating, but he could not remember the last time he was invited to participate in anything.

Leonardo abandoned attempts to keep him at home. Because Leonardo finally figured that it was better to just let him go and get himself hurt, as long as he did not drag anyone else.

It was infuriating, the situation. He was doing everything in his power to maintain order, and Leonardo was treating him like life would be better without him.

It may be true. This was his fault. Raphael was handling it poorly. And he did tell 'the handler' to butt out and let him take care of his own disorder. Raphael was trying. Trying so hard, but Donatello was hard to just ignore.

For the first time, Raphael doubted his ability to keep his brother at bay. To keep his own inner turmoil from getting loose and sabotaging everything the family had built together; everything protecting their home and safety. He was under a lot of pressure, and Raphael felt as though he would do what he always did: explode.

The sky above him crackled, but he just ignored it. He refused to think the heavens were laughing at him. He was handling the situation the best he could. Whatever joke nature was unleashing would not work on him. He had to keep a clear head. For Donatello.

Donatello. Why did the turtle have to confront him. Why did he always have to have all the answers. Be so inquisitive. He could not just let well enough be. Oh no, not Donatello. He had to know everything about anything. And this was no different.

And the brainy turtle had most definitely done his research. He went beyond the call of duty to find his facts and logic. And what he found had completely knocked Raphael off his dimension of reality. And feet.

Rain started to trickle onto the turtle's shoulders and shell. Spring was rolling in, but it was still cold. Raphael ignored it. He had been rained on before. Most of the time when he found himself staring over the city, the cool water was appreciated. Tonight, he wished it would just go away. He could feel his heat steaming away. His energy. His will to fight away the thoughts that made all of his decisions so wrong. So morally unsound.

The trickle eventually turned into a straight downpour. There had been a light sleet among the trickling, but it disappeared as the water came down in vast quantities. Raphael just continued to look down at the city like one of the building's stone gargoyles. Donatello came to him for answers. And Raphael gave the turtle answers. His responses just were not good enough. They were not the words Donatello wanted to hear.

Raphael was not sure if they were even what he wanted to say.

Donatello discovered the two were not brothers. Well, not blood related. They were still brothers. But he was not trying to convince him of anything else. The turtle was patient, a quality Raphael simply lacked. But patience meant that Raphael would be confronted again. And more answers would be expected of him next time.

Raphael simply did not have the strength for another confrontation. He felt himself caving to Donatello. Next time, he would have to be stronger. Raphael would have to build an uncompromising defense. And sadly, Raphael had to admit to himself that Donatello was going to get hurt. But he would have to hurt him, this one time. To save him.

Relying on glimmers of hope through secret mad science was not going to change anything. It would never change how the family felt. Raphael refused to believe his feelings would ever be accepted.

Donatello was setting himself up for immense disappointment. And now, Raphael felt the two sides of his body waging warfare over the current predicament. He had been handling it so well. Then Donatello had to show up and make everything… fuzzy.

Raphael lowered his head, completely dejected. Finally, he stopped trying to resist the rain's stealing of his body heat, finally cooling down in the chilly night. He slid down against the rooftop's border, turning his back on the city. The same phrase kept repeating over and over in his mind like an emergency broadcast announcement in a horror movie.

"Why'd he have to say it."

* * *

It's about time Raphael fell off his high horse, eh?


	16. Purple, He Knew

**Genesis**

Turtlecest, raphxdon – Because everything has to start somewhere…

Disclaimer: If I owned the turtles, it wouldn't be a kiddie show.

Warnings: turtlecest, yaoi, turtle on turtle action, slash, mature: are you sure you are in the right place? Be weary or your brain might implode.

**This is where things start turning a bit more mature... this is your second warning!**

Chapter 16 – Purple, He Knew

* * *

He knew.

Leonardo knew.

There was no question or doubt lingering in the genius's mind. Donatello peered around the corner to witness Raphael and Leonardo's silent conversation after Raphael left his presence. And Leonardo was there. Monitoring.

Leonardo and Raphael were silent around that corner, but he could sense it. They had quite the quiet conversation. When Donatello went around the bend himself, partially wanting to chase Raphael down, he realized he could not. Leonardo was there. And he stood there like a brick wall.

The eldest did not appear angry. But he knew. The expression in his eyes alone was all the proof that Donatello needed. Those hazel eyes washed over the entire speedy scene as Raphael stormed passed and pushed Leonardo to the side. Then, as Donatello rounded the corner and slowed down in his path, Leonardo and he made eye contact. Donatello did not look away. Neither did Leonardo.

In the leader's eyes, there was no evidence of disgust. But there was disappointment. A look Donatello had never received before. He found it not nearly as bad as he was expecting, perhaps because he had bigger tragedies to deal with.

Donatello's brain churned in overtime as he put the new puzzle piece into the overall picture. The entire scene was in slow motion for him to pick apart and analyze. Strange, his brain finally decided to click back up to full speed for the first time in months.

Leonardo understood more than he ever let on. Raphael knew he knew. The two were on the same page. Leonardo was on Raphael's case about it.

And there was no doubt that Leonardo was currently harassing the hell out of Raphael.

For how long? Donatello could not fathom in that few seconds of scrutiny. But he felt a rush of heat soar to his cheeks. Oh, he was not embarrassed. He was annoyed. He felt very protective over Raphael and Leonardo was stepping on toes he had no right to step on. Donatello felt defensive. Because eventually he would have to answer to Leonardo. Leonardo. The eldest of the family who did have the right to intervene.

But above all, Donatello felt angry. The fluttering sensation in his stomach was not from embarrassment or shyness. Because they did not have the right to do this.

_How dare they._

How dare Leonardo not include Donatello in his well earned lecturing. How dare Raphael think Donatello could not stand against Leonardo for what he believed was his own decision to make. In reality, there were only two people involved in what was happening between Raphael and himself, and somehow Donatello was being left out of his own incident. It was simply unacceptable.

Although somewhere inside he felt ready to snap, that anger was buried under a mile of understanding and the inability to initiate conflict. Especially with Leonardo, though despite his intervention, had to mean well. His brother was not malicious. He was a lot of things, but there was not an uncaring bone in Leonardo's body. He just wanted order. They all wanted order.

As they stood there in that brief moment of silence, Donatello could easily picture himself banging Leonardo's head into the wall like a basketball, but he knew he could never do that. Instead, he shot Leonardo with a depressed, hurtful expression; a look summarizing what he was truly feeling, without the resentment and temper.

Deep down, Donatello knew that dealt more damage to the leader, anyway.

It was definitely time to make a dramatic exit of his own. Donatello hurried past Leonardo. As expected, the turtle did nothing to stop him. There was no reason. Their moment was over. Any longer in Leonardo's presence and he may very well loose his cool. It was after ten, so going out the door from the lair was against the rules. Instead, he opted to lock himself in his laboratory. A first choice, really, once he thought about it. Nothing topside was for him.

Tinkering was not going to soothe his soul at the moment. Thoughts of earlier played over and over in his head and he over analyzed the situation. There was nothing else he could do but stare at a wall and let the torment run its course. Hours of his time slipped away as his memory stressed him. But instead of just suffering, his brain starting to make plans for future rendezvous. In a way, it was like meditation, though instead of clearing his mind, he was accepting what his mind's eye truly wanted to review.

Awakening him from his wall staring, Donatello heard a light knock at his door a few hours after he secured the locks. It was startling, but not unexpected. Other than the initial quick turn, he did not budge from his spot.

He knew it was Leonardo. And he had no plans to answer the door. Donatello's infectious glance from earlier in the night finally ate away at Leonardo's conscious and he was there to ease his own guilt. Leonardo simply could not handle guilt trips. It was the turtle's fatal flaw; why Michelangelo always got his way. The leader could handle a temper; resentment; hatred. He was an expert. But the slightest guilty seed planted in Leonardo's psyche could tear him apart.

Donatello never answered the door.

Instead, he retrieved the test results he printed from his computer earlier in the day and stared at them, rather than the wall. They displayed the information he did not want to see. Half of him, at least. The other half was overjoyed to have a glowing beacon of hope thrown into his sea of dreadful feelings.

Raphael had been surprised, too. It was the second time walls had dropped and Donatello saw a glimmer of possible feelings. _Possible_. But Raphael would not play along with this… catastrophe if he really felt something. Donatello would have already been punched in the face and sent on his way. Right?

The genius leaned back in his computer chair. It was pretty late now, and he was regretting his decision to barricade in his laboratory rather than his bedroom. It would not be the first time he fell asleep in his chair, but usually he did so unintentionally. Donatello almost regretted not leaving the lair entirely. He felt as though his cage was getting smaller. And that staying here was not only his own fault, but just another cowardice act on his part.

Raphael had to care for him. Nothing else would fit the situation. His older brother was being protective on an emotional level, not just the accustomed physical. The guy was trying to make it disappear, but failing. Raphael could barely hold up a front; he had great difficulty turning Donatello's attention away.

Most importantly, Raphael never said he was not feeling the same way. Donatello was not the only one who almost kissed his brother. The thought made his cheeks flush.

It was one, brief, blunder of a moment. But it happened. And Donatello could not find the words to describe how it really felt. He had been on the verge of his first real kiss. Euphoria was an excellent term to describe it, actually.

The thought made him tingle from his head, to his toes. What a schoolgirl cliché. One he was starting to finally understand. And as warm thoughts flooded his mind, his body began to respond. Some as simple as Raphael actually embracing him, defying family and circumstances; and others were downright porn. Responsive hands started to rub sensitive areas as his face blushed even further.

And then Donatello stopped. _Such a sicko._ He groaned as his floundering mind fought itself once more. The emotions he felt for Raphael, they could not be helped. _ You cannot help the way you feel._ But this. This was sexual, and completely preventable. He could make a choice and stop this completely.

A defiant hand continued its course down Donatello's plastron, knowing exactly what to touch and where to linger. Since when did disobeying the rules reward so well. Donatello's mind shifted into his desires as his other hand began to roam. His tail wiggled in anticipation. His hardened member began to throb in its encased prison.

He found himself at a forked path with a decision to make. And towards the road he was currently facing, Donatello realized there was a point of no return. His mind was fuzzy with fantasies of Raphael's calloused hands and what they were indeed capable of doing. He shivered when his own tepid hand pinched his tail, which grew sensitive to the touch.

Delicately, he urged his erected shaft from out of his shell. His hand immediately covered the heated flesh to shield it from the dank, cold air of the lair. He swallowed a quick pleasurable whimper when he started to stroke.

He felt so receptive tonight. Every small detail wrenched its way into his brain. Every tiny grasp of his fingers or areas barely grazed lit up with absolute yearning. His body needed more. And Donatello was happy to oblige. As his other hand massaged sensitive green skin, he only grew more desperate for his climax. The turtle bit down on his bottom lip, hard, to keep his gratification to himself, though no one could possibly hear him outside of the laboratory.

It was embarrassment that kept him quiet; a shame he was tired of kneeling for, finally. And with the instant realization, he stopped biting and groaned appreciatively as he worked his own flesh, imagining that it was Raphael who granted him such a vigorous prize. This is what his body wanted; what half his mind condemned. Not just sounds left his lips; words started to form, rarely over one syllable. His brain did not want to try too hard.

Donatello's senses sent him straight to finish line, and he slowed his attempts to please his yearnings. This is the point he stopped himself before, when realization of what was truly happening set in. The point where he cognitively registered he was jerking off to his big brother. But this time, he rebelled against his norm. He was growing tired of conforming and following the rules. The rules had no interest in his feelings or sufferings. The rules did not care if he was happy or miserable.

It was high time Donatello started to control his own fate, rather than be guided by emotionless, insentient regulations. He found himself not only journeying towards that path or no return. He was barreling down it, as fast as his body would take him. His hands sped up at the thought. There would be no return to a simpler time. There would never be a time he could simply forget this moment ever happened. He was submitting; admitting that the feelings were real; real enough to make him feel as wonderful as he did now. Realizing that, if he could only get through to Raphael, he could make his brother feel just as blissful. The thoughts were intoxicating.

Donatello, for the first time, imagined all of the things that he could actually do to Raphael; the shivers and trembles he could put the hothead through; the noises that could escape befuddled lips. The thoughts drove him beyond what it took to conclude the job his hand was finishing.

"Mmph…Raph!" The turtle cried out, knowing no one would hear him, but not caring if they did. Other words and syllables followed, but not even Donatello knew what he said. His body shook as his fluids drained out. Donatello's body convulsed in retaliation to its forceful orgasm. His world was thoroughly rocked.

Despite the following fatigue on his body and senses, he felt so clairvoyant. Months of meticulous analyzing and conclusions did nothing. But tonight, he acted, mutinied, and quickly decided his fate. And he was rewarded with peace of mind. The turtle was no longer torn. He did not care what anyone felt or what rules were in place to stop him.

There was no going back.

* * *

Third warning: things are going to get more mature. It sure is about time!


	17. Red, Dreaming

**Genesis**

Turtlecest, raphxdon – Because everything has to start somewhere…

Disclaimer: If I owned the turtles, it wouldn't be a kiddie show.

Warnings: turtlecest, yaoi, turtle on turtle action, slash, mature: are you sure you are in the right place? Be weary or your brain might implode.

**Things are turning more mature ... this is your second warning!**

Chapter 17 – Red, Dreaming

* * *

Raphael timed his arrival to the dojo perfectly. He was the second one in there, probably some half an hour after Leonardo, but still managed to spend maybe thirty seconds alone with the leader before Michelangelo and Donatello hurried into the room, with a pace he had not seen in months.

If anyone seemed sluggish it was him, since he was running on about three hours of sleep at this point. Raphael made it to practice, though. He always did. Raphael had a new freedom to thoroughly explore, but he knew the limit. Leonardo was not going to bitch him out as long as he made it to morning practice. An annoying price to pay, but it was worth it.

The room seemed more like a memory than the present. Leonardo was quietly conducting his warm-up routine before practice began. Donatello and Michelangelo were cutting up to his right, only half-ass stretching whenever Leonardo glanced their direction. Things seemed to fall back into place this morning. And despite his lack of sleep and all that had happened, Raphael acted "normal," too.

Was Raphael really normal? No. But Leonardo seemed pleased by his charade and that was what really mattered.

The two figures to his right straightened all of the sudden, and Raphael turned to see what set them to attention. Through the doorway, their father and sensei walked with a spring in his usually slow step. Raphael's heart instantly lightened with the presence of his father. Their master was not always able to make it to their practice sessions these days. It was a sad thought, really, but Raphael understood the limits of the aging rat. Splinter would always be their sensei, even if Leonardo led the practices.

The morning session went off without a hitch. Maybe because their master was watching his beloved sons perform his art form; hopefully because things were starting to return to their version of ordinary. For whatever reason, Raphael was thankful. Even when paired with Donatello, there was no unsettling tension in the air. Raphael enjoyed the calming presence of his father and the comfortable atmosphere a well-known routine provided. Even Donatello moved as though he detached a hefty weight from his shoulders. It was a good sign.

The hour passed by in a matter of mere moments. Afterwards, the family actually lingered in the main living area, rather than retreat to their individual spaces. Raphael had never been more pleased to be in such close quarters with his family. He felt deprived of their attentions, even Michelangelo.

Even Michelangelo. It was official. His father was a miracle worker.

The family ate breakfast together. Raphael poked fun at Leonardo's meal of choice (seriously, rice for breakfast?), convinced Michelangelo to drink half a bottle of hot sauce, and even acted grossed out at Donatello's insistence of describing scientific experiments at the table. And in retaliation, they all stole the bacon from his plate every time he was not looking. The audacity. For in what seemed like forever, the clan had a decent family meal, no dramas included. Raphael had to be dreaming.

In further example of his father's merit for sainthood, no one ever fought with Splinter over the remote. So there was peace at the televisions. Throughout the afternoon, Splinter chose decently compromising programming as head of the controller, and those uninterested still occupied the living area with other hobbies. Leonardo polished his swords. Donatello read a book the size of Kansas. Michelangelo occasionally got distracted from the television with toys and magazines and comics and food, but otherwise stayed put. And Raphael watched silently in his favorite chair, glad to bask in his family's presence, but knowing it was destined to go wrong, be disrupted by some crisis, or inevitably end.

It was a lazy day; an extremely rare occasion. And somehow nothing ticked him off. Finally, their father prepared for sleep sometime in the evening. Donatello was the first to wonder off towards his quarters and quietly shut the door. Michelangelo moved from the couch to Donatello's public computer set-up, shouting quietly every few minutes at whatever game he selected to entertain himself.

Sometime after midnight, Raphael himself was ready to call the perfect day quits. Somehow Leonardo managed to stay up as long, most likely with nothing more than the goal to see Raphael wonder off to his own room obediently. _What a tool._

As Raphael stood and stretched, he felt Leonardo's eyes watching him closely, but nothing was verbally said. Raphael lazily moseyed towards the staircase, passing Michelangelo and the muted game noises he could hear from the headphones.

All the way up the stairs, he could still feel Leonardo's gaze, but he shook it off. His eldest brother was really starting to rub him the wrong way.

Raphael stopped and looked around the second floor walkway, as if he heard a ghost. For just a moment, he thought he heard some whisper of his name echo off the walls, but his eyes settled on Michelangelo and the noises he could barely hear from the computer system. After the slight hesitation, he closed his own bedroom door behind him, and Leonardo was free of his guard duties for the night. _The jerk off needed a real hobby._

His hammock was as cozy as could be expected for a hammock. Within moments he was rocking himself gently and staring at the ceiling, one of his new common pastimes. In simpler times, his hammock was just for sleeping; a device specifically for the four to eight hours he gave himself a night for rest. Lately, though, it had been his comforter. His therapist. Though none of the others would ever know, the rocking seemed to quell his mind; his raging psyche that offered him very little peace the last few months. He actually felt secure hovering between the ceiling and floor, as if the evil forces of nature could not dream of reaching his netted safe haven.

Moments later, he was drifting off into a hazy sleep, free of thoughts and agitations of the real world. His body relaxed and the swinging inevitably stopped, though he was not awake to take notice.

But his refuge was breached. His safe haven was overran. And in his defenseless sleep, his mind unleashed a new type of attack he was ill prepared to contend.

From out of the dream world, emerged his completely lifelike sibling with glowing red cheeks and eyes filled to the brim with licentious intentions. And Raphael tried to protest. Oh, how he wanted to object, but there he was, unmoving and unable to speak. His body was paralyzed.

This was not real, but the feelings still jolted his entire body. Nerves stood on end as he fought his ethereal restraints. Soft caresses from the dreamy Donatello sent conflicting messages to his brain, and he wanted nothing more than to wildly kick and scream. But he just laid there and watched the scene unfold, unable to react; not capable to stop what was happening, no matter how his mind protested.

And there was protest. But there was another part of his body responding very appreciative to this attention. Raphael did not know how to feel about that. He simply urged himself to flail; begged this Donatello to stop his actions silently with his eyes. But all he received from his efforts was a playful smile.

This was not how this was supposed to happen. He had to remain in control; he had to stay the responsible one. But whatever was happening, his internal struggle was siding with Donatello no matter what logic had to say about the situation.

Olive green hands caressed his body so gently, he shivered. Had he been able to move, he felt his muscles yearning to arc into his brother's touches, whether or not his brain approved. Still, his skin tingled to the sensitive touch; the sensation was so lifelike; so real.

The voice screaming in his head to stop this madness was dying out with every passing moment Donatello worked on his body, and with each second, he was more willing to see it go. Raphael was used to his mind being jumbled in blinding haze, but not like this. Not in a state where he could no longer protect his brother.

Hands crept closer to nether regions and Raphael gave his protest one last bout, but to no avail. His body refused to respond in any way positive towards his rebellion, and dream Donatello just kept staring at him with those wanting eyes, tearing down more defenses than Raphael had ever allowed dropped before.

A sickening feeling poured into Raphael's mind like putrid acid, as Donatello began to rub the sensitive area holding in the only part of his body able to react to this advancement. That realization was that at least part of him wanted this; yearned for this; begged Donatello to go further and relieve the new tension building up in the bottom of his shell. And the thought bothered him immensely, but somehow, nature was still taking the reins and running, whatever form of disapproval he had left dying at the waste side.

His throbbing flesh was freed from the encaging plastron, and uncomfortably hit cold air, but not for long. A warm, embracing tongue shared its heat with his dick, and had he been able to sound, he was sure the entire household would be aware of how welcome he felt in Donatello's throat. Dream Donatello. Whatever.

Though Raphael was in forced silence, he could hear every pleased note that managed to slip out of Donatello's mouth. Every moan, inhale, and exhale threw Raphael further into his fantasy, and he was no longer concerned with escaping.

Donatello tenderly attended to every inch Raphael had to offer him and any doubt still swimming in Raphael's mind took a long walk off a short pier. Slowly, even the concerns for their relation disappeared. Instead of meeting disgust, he was now faced with reassurances that these actions were acceptable; that Donatello was not his real brother. How there could be nothing wrong with something that felt so comforting; so good.

Raphael was so dizzy from the occurrence, he almost felt as though he was falling when Donatello abruptly stopped his actions. Raphael fought drastically to continue his brother's tongue's assault; to shove himself back into Donatello's heated throat. But just as before, he found it impossible to move.

His eyes darted down towards Donatello, who stared at him with a teasing grin. It was maddening; the entire situation; He was brought so close to release, and now his brother was mocking him; practically humiliating him. But the only concern still left in his mind was that of making sure Donatello or dream Donatello or whatever illusion stood in front of him finished the job started. It was only a few moments of torture, but Raphael had enough; he wanted to command and force; but he was only capable of staring; and his eyes went an entirely different direction. They begged Donatello to continue. Pleaded with the genius to bring Raphael to his climax.

And his request was heard. His tail was toyed with at first. It drove him insane. And yet he still could not move. He would give anything to be able to move again. The loss of control was simply unbearable.

An olive hand wrapped around his shaft and assured the flesh more was to come. Raphael waited impatiently, his muscles fighting so hard to push in and out of that hand, but unable to do so. He needed his release. Raphael needed Donatello to finish. His body was too close to the edge of his climax, and his sanity teetered dangerously.

The hot mouth clamped down again around his fully erect member and Donatello's rhythm began once more. Raphael's heart pounded against his chest; his body perspired and sheets awkwardly stuck to his body. But this was it. Donatello went all out. That glorious tongue lashed out skillfully bringing Raphael to a point of no return. Raphael's ears were full of Donatello's own lustful sounds; the turtle or mirage or dream was enjoying every minute of this. He was right there, so close; so near one of the most built-up orgasms he would ever experience.

But then Raphael awoke suddenly in his bed, almost tumbling from his hanging sanctuary. Sheets matted to his skin in the most uncomfortable ways. His body and mind both felt completely used and drained. And worse, his fully erect penis painfully protested the sudden end to his erotic dream, never receiving the release he was so close to experiencing.

Reality, memories, and visions all poured into his mind's eye at once as his safe haven was thoroughly invaded with his every day dramas. His cold, sticky sheets tightly confined him and though he could finally move, he refused.

* * *

Hm.

I can't think of a worst way to wake up, minus **MAYBE **someone stabbing me to death. Maybe.


	18. Purple, Running with Scissors

**Genesis**

Turtlecest, raphxdon – Because everything has to start somewhere…

Disclaimer: If I owned the turtles, it wouldn't be a kiddie show.

Warnings: turtlecest, yaoi, turtle on turtle action, slash, mature: are you sure you are in the right place? Be weary or your brain might implode.

**Things start turning a bit more mature... this is your second warning!**

Chapter 18 – Purple, Running with Scissors

* * *

"Mmph.. Raph…" Donatello heavily leaned his head into the ceramic tile of the bathroom shower as his body forcefully convulsed through his second orgasm of the day. And it was only eight thirty. "Raph," he repeated once more, less intense than the first time. The steam from the shower invaded his eyes the moment they opened. He saw the last of the milky white liquid swirl down the drain and out of sight. Water trickled down his forearms evenly, mixing with the perspiration from his personal…workout.

Donatello had been doing this a lot lately. Strong desires and a very uncomfortable bottom plastron were turning into the summary of his mornings. And nights. And some afternoons. It was the side effect of openly admitting and accepting his attraction. Of course, it did not help that he also lived in tiny quarters with the object of his affections.

In the very least, the shower stripped away any residue of guilt and dirty feelings. Donatello felt rejuvenated, ready to face the day and all it had to offer.

At least part of him did. The other part refused to leave the hot, forgiving shower. Though Donatello accepted what was happening and was willing to face it, he was alone. And as long as he remained alone, he would be trapped in this limbo forever. He needed a real answer; Raphael's true feelings. And until he got the accurate answers he was searching for, there would be no healing or moving on. There would be no chances to embrace someone other than himself.

Thoughts always trace back to that night in the dojo. Emotions were high, words were flying, and there was some spark that brought them closer than they had ever been. Yes, Donatello had almost kissed Raphael, but Raphael had almost kissed him, too. Raphael had to feel the same. _He just had to._ Donatello's patience was running thin for that reassurance; the proof that he was not the only one with such taboo feelings in the family. Donatello did not want to be alone anymore.

It was time to make Raphael face the music. Today was the day. Either they were going to see eye to eye, or Donatello was going to get his heart broken and move on. He deserved an answer, whether he wanted to hear it or not.

He finally turned off the shower as the water was just starting to shift cooler. With renewed determination, he quickly dried and headed out the bathroom door, unleashing more steam than he originally realized into the main room. He used up more hot water than usual, but damn it if it was something to be ashamed. He stepped towards the kitchen with no hesitation in his stride.

Just as Donatello entered the kitchen, he finished tying the knot in the back of his purple mask. He was in a good mood and for some reason he expected everyone else to be the same. But the scene was a bit different than he anticipated. His master was not seated at the table, despite the more frequent meals they lately shared together. Michelangelo was also holding his tongue more than usual, spooning plates of whatever he prepared for the late arrival. And Leonardo was quietly, but sternly lecturing Raphael.

"Lately, you have been sluggish." Leonardo never looked away from Raphael when Donatello entered the room. "Have you been going out i _every_ /i night?"

Raphael just growled something inaudible. Leonardo's lecture continued, but Donatello tuned it out as he tried to maintain his better mood. He took his seat at the table and really, no one seemed to notice except Michelangelo, who happily plopped a plate of breakfast in front of Donatello.

"Thanks, Mikey." Donatello gave his brother a smile and the turtle was instantly rewarded with his week of super breakfast specials.

"No prob, bro!" Michelangelo took his own seat and started gobbling away at his own food once more, completely ignoring the other side of the table, where Leonardo and Raphael sat. Perhaps Michelangelo had decided to deal with one turtle at a time. Lucky Donatello.

Michelangelo then proceeded to happily rant about some video game, but Donatello focused back on the two oldest siblings. Leonardo was trying to keep his voice down, and miraculously, Raphael was holding his comments in completely. But all of this attention from Leonardo, simply for being tired? That seemed a bit extreme. Evidently it had nothing to do with Raphael's sleeping habits.

"You will stay in the lair. Period." Leonardo finally decided to put his foot down on Raphael's frequent adventures. "At least until I'm convinced you aren't going to fall asleep in some alley."

And Raphael said nothing. It was truly bazaar. But Donatello could yet again feel waves of heat flowing past him, and he knew exactly where they were coming from.

"Mikey stays up all night playing video games. That's really no different." Donatello casually pointed out as he stuffed a piece of toast into his mouth. Michelangelo immediately began to panic, being dragged into the lecture zone. Donatello never flinched. It was true. Both Raphael and Michelangelo had the same bags under their eyes. The only difference was Michelangelo's hyper attitude and caffeine had the tendency to cancel out the effects.

Leonardo shot Donatello a scrutinizing glance before continuing his gaze towards Michelangelo with a stern expression. They both knew what just happened. Donatello never meant to hide it, though.

Donatello proudly chewed more of his toast, not feeling guilty at all for throwing Michelangelo under the proverbial bus. It's not like Leonardo was giving him a serious lecture. And it was not like Michelangelo really minded the sudden attention.

Donatello's brief self-righteous moment faded when he caught annoyed eyes from Raphael. _What on Earth was that for?_ Donatello shot back a questioning stare, but he was never answered.

The rest of breakfast passed by in awkward silence. Donatello did not mind. He defended Raphael and that really gave him a boost of confidence. He stood up against Leonardo, and no ill fell of it. They really were able to make their own decisions freely. Leonardo could guide, but he could not fully decide.

Raphael's chair pushed back and he got up quickly, having finished his meal. Dishes all but slammed into the sink; it was a wonder nothing broke.

Not to seem too forward, but really not caring if he did, Donatello was the second to leave, just after Raphael. It was time to burn some of this confidence, and it no longer mattered if he announced his attentions to the entire clan. But as Raphael was not ready for such a declaration, he treaded after him instead, at least far enough away from the kitchen to not cause a scene.

"Raph." Donatello said and as a complete surprise, Raphael stopped in his tracks and turned around. The turtle looked furious.

"I'm not exactly a damsel in distress." Raphael was keeping his voice down, but even his whispering sounded aggressive. "I don't need your help." He hissed.

Donatello smiled sweetly as his agitated brother. "Of course, you don't." He put up his hands defensively in front of him. "I just didn't like seeing you on the firing block." Donatello lowly said his words. He submitted to Raphael's anger and almost felt sorrowful. But if anything was going to get passed Raphael's massive defense, that was it.

Raphael calmed down upon realizing Donatello was not trying to belittle him. "I just.. ya need to just stay outa this." Raphael looked over Donatello's shoulder as if they were in danger of being spied upon. The lack of sleep in Raphael's expression was apparent.

"Raph. Don't push me away." Donatello's eyes pleaded with Raphael, prying through walls and barricades. His brother's eyes lightened, finding no conflict in Donatello. Raphael was going through a lot, whether or not Donatello ever noticed before. Donatello was not alone.

But a moment later, Raphael's brow lowered and the chance was gone. Donatello's intruding intentions were discovered and Raphael closed off again. "Stop dreamin, Don." Raphael crossed his arms securely across his chest, locking down like Fort Knox. "There ain't ever gonna be an 'us.'" Raphael huffed and looked away.

But Donatello took notice of the pain in Raphael's voice as he spoke. Somewhere, deep inside, maybe the turtle did not believe what he was saying. There was hope. "We can't just keep ignoring…"

"Listen to me." Raphael spit out. "I'm tryin' to tell ya, Don. Without hurtin' ya. There ain't nothin' there." Raphael glanced again over Donatello's shoulder and decided to take a step to the side so that, for one he could get a vantage point, but also run when he was ready.

Donatello was not convinced, only fueled for a good debate. "There is something here, Raph." He actually smiled. He was happy to finally be having this exact conversation. "We are attracted to one ano-"

"No." Raphael did not want to hear that. Okay, moving on…

"It's perfectly natural." Donatello just learned to speak quicker before he could be interrupted.

"No it ain't." Raphael shook his head. His eyes were darting everywhere but Donatello's face.

"We almost..." Donatello blushed at the memory and actually smiled. This was as touchy of a conversation he was going to get with Raphael. Might as well cherish what he could.

"It was an accident." Raphael stopped his fidgeting and looked down at his younger brother. His eyes brightly glowed their obvious discontent.

"You. Me. We almost kissed." Donatello spelled it out. Raphael was experiencing some hardcore denial, but Donatello fired his best ammunition. The facts. The logic. The proof. Their eyes met and each stared daggers into the other's. Was this the moment Donatello had been waiting so many months for?

"It was just a moment of weakness. Get over it." Raphael said, so calmly and so precise, Donatello almost fell over.

Donatello felt a wave of shock wash over his features. Raphael was not speaking of anger or any other emotion. He was drawing everything he had to say this. What he really felt.

There was a long droll of silence, but the glaring match continued. Donatello refused to walk away. Raphael stood there like a brick wall, in an intimidating manner, assuring Donatello there was nothing left to be said. His eyes conveyed no different, hopeful message. Raphael was closed down. Donatello had his answer.

How much time passed, Donatello was unaware, as his thoughts and dreams and hopes dashed and shattered in his mind. He may have stood there forever, had he not heard the not-so-subtle reminder from behind him that they were no longer alone.

Leonardo cleared his throat, and gained both of their attention simultaneously. The eldest was staring daggers at Raphael. "May I see you, privately?" The chilly composure in Leonardo's voice actually snapped Donatello's confidence. And his ability to budge.

Raphael, on the other hand, was perfectly capable of movement. He walked past Donatello without another glance and shoved passed Leonardo on the way to their usual meeting spot.

A moment later, Donatello was alone. With his answer. The answer he did not want to hear.

* * *

Rejection blows. Yup yup.


	19. Red, Backfire

**Genesis**

Turtlecest, raphxdon – Because everything has to start somewhere…

Disclaimer: If I owned the turtles, it wouldn't be a kiddie show.

Warnings: turtlecest, yaoi, turtle on turtle action, slash, mature: are you sure you are in the right place? Be weary or your brain might implode.

**Things start turning a bit more mature... this is your second warning!**

Chapter 18 – Red, Backfire

* * *

These little powwows with Leonardo were really starting to piss him off.

His brain was overworked and on the verge of detonation. And Leonardo wanted to have a nice peaceful chat with him to point out everything he's doing wrong? Raphael was no Zen master. Leonardo made a grave mistake thinking this would go like the time before. He was stuck between two brothers' wishes. And much to Raphael's confusion, he wanted to agree with both of them. No, nothing calm and tranquil could emerge from this.

Why did he even follow Leonardo from the main hall? Desperation. A chance to flee. But it only led Raphael out of the frying pan and into the fire. He was free of Donatello's advances and questions, but now he had the true inquisitor to deal with. And thanks to Donatello, he was fresh out of giving a shit of what Leonardo had to say.

Leonardo was quiet until Raphael closed the door behind him. Then, the examination began. "What are you doing?" Leonardo's voice was masking his true feelings poorly. The turtle sounded exhausted, like Raphael's inability to react appropriately was somehow falling on his shoulders now. He was also upset. Watching from the sidelines and seeing every flaw. Everything was clearer when you weren't trying to see the forest from the trees. Standing back proved to be much harder than Leonardo ever anticipated.

"Nothing." Raphael spit out. It was the answer. He was neither leading Donatello on, nor breaking his heart. It was all he could do. It would do the trick. Just not fast enough for Leonardo. "And it'll work." Raphael confidently added.

"No." Leonardo's gaze met Raphael's. There was no attempts at peace made. This was going to turn into a fight. "Obviously, it won't." Leonardo gave no time for follow-up. "It's time for this to end. I will end it." Leonardo made his coup d'état for the reigns.

Raphael's muscles tightened up. "The only thing it's time for is for you to butt out of mah life." Thoughts and reactions were swirling around in his head, but this was his natural state of mind. And it was time to remember that. Raphael was a decision maker when the situations got grim. And this was quickly turning into a red level panic.

Leonardo prepared for possible onslaught as well. "You cannot handle it. You are losing control." He bluntly pointed out his observations to Raphael.

And Raphael never denied them. Because if the turtle was anything, he was honest. Stubborn, but honest to the end. Leonardo was right. So naturally, he went with plan B. "Go suck a dick, Leo. This ain't your problem." Raphael's shield was in place. His mind was cloudy but anger carved a path to the truth. Whatever decision he made, he would defend tooth and nail. "It's not a i_problem_ /iat all."

Leonardo's eyes flared. Raphael was taking light of the situation. Or falling into it, himself. "You need to think of your family. And what will become of us." His voice was low. It was a threat, but Leonardo was no liar himself. His premonitions had truth to them. And they were both terrified of the possible outcome.

Ol' Fearless would dismantle the bomb before it ever had a chance to arm. At least, that was the plan. But Raphael could see it in his eldest brother's eyes. Leonardo really had no idea what to do. All he had was confidence and order. As both of them were shattering before him, Leonardo would eventually have to look in the mirror and realized that he lost control, too.

Raphael, on the other hand, thrived in fear. Fear meant it was go time. Time for reaction rather than thinking. Thinking just got you killed.

Raphael could have said something profound and helpful as he just realized internally, but he went with option two. "Fuck you, Fearless. There ain't nothin' I care 'bout more than this family." i_Even Leonardo_. /i He thought it, but of course, he held his tongue. "But you can't control me. Or Don. Or every thought we're thinkin."

"This can destroy us." Leonardo's voice was home to a plea. Things were getting out of his hands. He had only one move left, Raphael knew it. But Raphael never thought any of this could go without him having to face his father.

"You dun even know what "this" is." Raphael surged as he found himself completely dominating the conversation. "But it dun matter. 'Cause it ain't your business."

Leonardo remained silent. Raphael had less to ricochet off from, so his voice dropped in volume. He had not even realized he was yelling in the first place. "It's my business. Donnie's business. And whatever happens won't hurt anyone."

Raphael realized it. Though this was, in reality, a screaming match between him and his older brother, he was talking about 'it.' The dreaded feelings he had that he had yet to communicate before. But upon awareness, he was done talking about it.

"I think you are wrong." Leonardo interjected. Surface thoughts. The eldest was in deep contemplation. Raphael was no longer being submissive towards his wishes for the protection of Donatello. He was telling Leonardo what was going to happen whether he liked it or not.

Wrong. Wrong to feel this way. Wrong not to fight it. Half of him very much agreed. But it was the half he was growing sick of; the half that filled his head with clouds in the first place. The responsibility of his place in the family. The part of him that had to be submissive based on nothing.

Raphael loathed submission.

But there was finally something in him that made him feel like more than just a body guard. More than the family black sheep. And he was pushing it away, based on tradition alone and what others thought of him.

Since when did Raphael give a fuck about what other people thought of him.

"You know you can't do this. You have to be responsible." Leonardo apparently thought his opinion got through because he had more to add as Raphael contemplated.

Raphael was still on edge, and ready to blow at any minute, but he realized what was really wrong. He was talking to the wrong turtle right now. Leonardo could not possibly understand his, but there was one other going through the same mess. And he was blowing Donatello completely out of his life.

Leonardo was now, not only telling him what to do, he was telling him what not to do. There was a line, and Leonardo crossed it. Raphael, had he not been completely enraged by the command, may have wondered if such a rookie move was on purpose. "I don't give a fuck what you think right now, Leo. You're a prude, dick headed bastard. I'm gonna do what I wanna do." Raphael scowled at his brother.

A moment later, he was out of the room and into the living area. Michelangelo peaked from the computer for an instant, just to see what was happening. He put the headphones back on his head slowly when he saw Raphael storming out.

Raphael neither headed for the exit, nor his bedroom. It was time to show how he really felt; not his obligations towards the eldest and not what anyone other than him thought. His mind was cluttered but Donatello was the only thing on it. He entered the laboratory and slammed the door behind him, no attempts made to be stealthy. One click later, a lock was activated. He did not want to be interrupted.

Donatello looked up from his work bench, where the table before him was completely empty. Raphael was before him a second later. Raphael intensely stared down at his brother, who in turn glared back at him. Donatello's eyes were still filled to the brim with something Raphael knew very well. Anger. But Raphael ignored it.

He towered over Donatello, his mind drowning in the anxiety of the moment. The questions, the risks, the hesitation, the right words to say. Eyes narrowed as he finally pieced together a quickly spout sentence.

He placed his hands on Donatello's shoulders and bent down to eye level. He did not want to be so far away. Putting himself on the line, he instantly sought some sort of comfort. That had never happened before.

"What is this?" Raphael's cheeks puffed as he breathed more air than necessary. "This ain't some rebound shit from April, right?" There was a trace of sadness and a hint of fear.

Their mouths were close once more, just as close as that night that loomed in both of their memories. Mentally, Raphael was actually panicking. i _Just tell me it's okay... Just say it_. /i

Donatello blinked exactly once during Raphael's emotional display. His eyes narrowed and he gave his reply in a strong, unwavering voice. "Allow me to be strong in your moment of weakness."

Raphael's eyes went wide and cold reality swept over him. Donatello gently nudged his arms away with no resistance. The turtle then got to his feet and marched to the locked door, removing the fasten that secured it. Donatello left Raphael standing, his proverbial jaw resting on the ground. How the genius calmly left his laboratory, you would never know he was angry, or that anything had just happened. Raphael had to replay the scene again just to make sure.

Yes. That did just happen. Raphael recovered. Donatello's vengeance was unexpected and painful. But his pain was instantly quelled with fury. Raphael's last straw snapped. And he had to leave before anything else threatened his fragile control.

With an actual frustrated roar, Raphael bolted from Donatello's laboratory, right past Donatello and then through Leonardo. If the eldest tried to stop him, he did not notice.

It was Donatello who had something to say, surprising enough. "Where... where are you going?" Donatello's voice wavered. i_Did he sound worried? Too fucking late for that_. /i

"To find you some fuckin' Midol." The door's hydrolics hummed as Raphael made his dramatic exit. His last words echoed off of the walls into complete stillness.

* * *

Oh the joys of love. Bwahaha.


	20. Blue, The Sky is Falling

**Genesis**

Turtlecest, raphxdon – Because everything has to start somewhere…

Disclaimer: If I owned the turtles, it wouldn't be a kiddie show.

Warnings: turtlecest, yaoi, turtle on turtle action, slash, mature: are you sure you are in the right place? Be weary or your brain might implode.

**Things start turning a bit more mature... this is your second warning!**

Chapter 20 – Blue, The Sky is Falling

* * *

Raphael did not come home last night. There was nothing unique about that, especially when the hothead's anger got the best of him. But something much more disturbing came about because of it. Raphael did not come to morning practice. He never missed practice. Because that was Master Splinter's only rule. The one thing Raphael had never tarnished with his inability to control his anger.

Leonardo secretly hoped Raphael was late as he conducted through their routines. Half way through, he was no longer troubled with Raphael's behavior the night before, but with his safety. It may have been one of the longest hours of his life, expecting Raphael to drag his tired body through the door. But Raphael never showed.

Throughout the practice, he could not keep his eyes off of Donatello. As hard as he tried, Leonardo could not turn away. Leonardo and Raphael fought. A lot. And Raphael would often head to the surface to get away from it. But he always came back. Donatello must have done something to anger Raphael beyond any level Leonardo had ever contributed. Leonardo was far from jealous, but still, that amount of influence in Raphael's behavior was eye-catching.

Donatello went through the motions as Leonardo instructed, but his mind was a million miles away. Leonardo stared through Donatello as if the turtle would suddenly turn transparent and answers to all of his questions would illuminate, but he never got the attention he silently pleaded for.

Leonardo and Raphael made a deal and as he was honorable, he would not approach Donatello, though he really wanted to; Leonardo remembered that nothing stopped Donatello from coming to him, if only the genius would.

Donatello never once looked at him all through practice. When their morning routine ended, the distracted turtle quietly slunk off into the living quarters and took refuge in the loud ambiance that occurred when Michelangelo switched on the television to continue some video game.

He was staying public so that he could not be approached. The turtle's eyes also shifted towards the lair's entrance on occasion. Donatello was waiting for Raphael to get home.

Leonardo was no different, he realized. He found himself spying on the world below from a nook close to the ceiling, concealed by shadow. It was well above the first and second floors of their household, conveniently close to Leonardo's room. From his personal hiding spot his eyes wandered towards the door as well. With each passing moment, worry flooded more and more of his thoughts. Leonardo's anger, confusion, and perceptions were starting to drown in the flood. His thoughts were growing soft. Or they were starting to ring with more understanding than he had allowed before.

Raphael and Donatello were going through something he did not fully understand, and it would not end as cookie cutter as he was originally judging. It could refuse to end at all, making this scene more common in the future. That was an upsetting thought. There was what Leonardo wanted, for this to fade off into the sunset. And what he thought Raphael longed for as well. If that was not the case, then this day would be doomed to repetition.

Would keeping them from being together in such an unsettling sense actually tear the family apart? Leonardo had a hard pill to swallow. Both ways looked grim. But indecisiveness, this limbo, was doing no better. Life was going to change, for all of them, no matter what happened now.

He sat there all morning and well into the afternoon hours, but Raphael never came home. Donatello shared a few whispers with Michelangelo over one of his new levels. By late afternoon, the game switched off and Donatello was alone on the couch. Michelangelo went into the kitchen for something.

Leonardo had his chance to capture Donatello alone. But he did not take it. Instead, he sighed at his own since of stalking and backed towards the wall. He would have to settle for hearing Raphael return, as the door was now out of view. Somewhere, deep inside, he felt like he was prying, not protecting.

If something happened to Raphael, he would never forgive himself. _How can any of them forgive him? _ Worry and guilt were Leonardo's weak points, and both were weighing heavily on his shoulders. His prerogative was to handle the situation, but he only made it worse. And now Raphael was out on the surface during daylight. A very rash move on Raphael's part, but it showed Leonardo just how desperate he was to avoid them all.

Leonardo was turning their home into the Star Chamber. If he hosted strange feelings and thoughts he believed unwelcome, would he really want to come home, either?

"Catch." Leonardo looked to his side just in time to pick a soda can from hitting him between the eyes. Another can followed right after it and he pulled it from the air. Rather amusingly and without the grace a ninja should possess, Michelangelo tugged himself up to Leonardo's vantage point a few moments later, a bag of potato chips securely held by his mouth.

Leonardo eyed his brother suspiciously, but Michelangelo just smiled wide, still firmly holding the bag with his teeth. He then gave speaking a whirl, but Leonardo did not understand him. Willing to risk the threat of catching Mikey germs, Leonardo freed the bag from Michelangelo's teeth.

"Scootch, will ya. My big shell isn't gonna fit there." He eyed the small leeway Leonardo left between his current station and the way down. As ordered, the turtle moved over. He had never been bothered in his private crow's nest, but he decided to keep that condition untarnished. Leonardo was not quite ready to call Michelangelo's intrusion a disturbance.

Michelangelo humorously took his time getting comfortable in the tiny space. Then the bag was cracked open and his mouth was full of potato chips as he stared down to the main floor, seemingly studying Donatello like he had been doing it for hours. "Gotta see what's so great about this." Michelangelo crunched around his words.

Well he was caught. Michelangelo of all people found his quiet place where he could know everyone was safe. _Usually_. As his attention faded from Donatello and onto Michelangelo, his decent into his own personal guilt pool started to slow. Michelangelo just had a spirit about him that made it impossible to sink.

Michelangelo crunched away and reached his hand out towards Leonardo without a word. Leonardo, in turn, placed one of the cans launched at his face a moment ago into his baby brother's fingers. It was accepted graciously, and opened with a hiss. Leonardo then offered Michelangelo the second can of soda, but was denied. "No, dude. That's for you."

"I don't drink this stuff." Leonardo pointed out, as he had many, many, many times before. He was promptly ignored. As usual.

"I figure this is a special occasion." Michelangelo shrugged. He had nothing to back it. That was the thing about Michelangelo. Leonardo could see right through him and there was nothing to hide. No mystery about him. He was what he was. And that was a relief.

Leonardo quietly placed the can in front of his crossed legs. He had nothing to say. It was odd to have his noisy brother next to him as he tried to contemplate the seriousness of what was happening, but Michelangelo made "serious" much more difficult to grasp.

"Come on, don't make me drink alone, bro." Michelangelo held up his soda as if waiting for Leonardo to cling his own can against his. Michelangelo smiled brightly towards the eldest.

Leonardo hesitated, trying to cling on to the feelings he had a moment ago. He earned them. He deserved to feel guilty and tortured by Donatello's sadness; Raphael's disappearance. This was his fault, every aspect, because he was the leader. He was responsible for them all.

"I'll tell you what's going to happen if you give it a try." Michelangelo bargained with his older brother. And it most certainly got his attention.

"What's going to happen?" Leonardo questioned back. There was no reason to tiptoe around with Michelangelo's games. His ransom was simple.

"Oh yeah. Saw this all in a movie once." Michelangelo stuffed another handful of chips into his mouth. His mockery became clear as he stared intensely at Donatello's unwavering figure on the couch way down below. Michelangelo's hand still hung in the air with his soda can. He shook it tauntingly towards Leonardo.

Leonardo let out a heavy breath, and along with it some of his stress. Michelangelo was indeed an amazing little brother. Slowly he reached down to the drink below him and cracked it open. "Just a sip." Leonardo stated as he raised it towards his mouth. He received no confirmation or damnation from Michelangelo.

"Dude. Still hanging." Michelangelo shook his can again, waiting for Leonardo to actually tap it with his own. What a goof.

But Leonardo played along with his game. He tapped the aluminum against his brother's and Michelangelo was quite delighted. Michelangelo looked away from Donatello and back towards Leonardo. "Bottoms up." The turtle smiled and took another sip from his can.

Leonardo did the same. The sugary soda was not exactly foreign to him, as he had them before in the past, but the burn did take some getting used to.

"So, here's the story." Michelangelo prepared some epic explanation, no doubt. "Don's got a thing for Raph." The way he said it, so nonchalantly. He knew Leonardo knew. "Raph's got the hots for Don." Michelangelo was just saying it. No disgust or disappointment. Like it never even mattered. "But Raph was bein' a total jackass, so Don sent him off." Michelangelo's hands moved as if explaining some deep plotted movie. "He didn't mean to, just Raph got the best of him." Michelangelo added.

Leonardo nodded. He did not question when Michelangelo found out, or how. He was just glad the turtle was taking it so well. Leonardo wanted to protect Michelangelo from the horrors of his two older brothers basking in immorality, but as usual, he just realized he did not give Michelangelo enough credit. "You forgot the evil step brother who tried to thwart them both." Leonardo added as a stab of guilt tried to puncture Michelangelo's attempts to cheer him up.

"Nah, he's just a background character." Michelangelo added with a shrug. "Though he's there," Michelangelo actually pointed on the ground like the evil step-brother in his play was standing _right there_, "He's really not their main concern, ya know?" Michelangelo looked Leonardo dead in the eyes. "They know he means well, and totally forgive him. And stuff."

Leonardo closed his eyes and almost cracked a smile. "Hm." He quietly sounded, as his only indication that Michelangelo may actually be making him feel better. "Then what happens next?"

Michelangelo offered some of his chips to Leonardo, that were promptly, but kindly refused. "Well, right now, Don feels like a giant bag of dicks." Michelangelo pointed out. Leonardo raised his eyebrows towards the Michelangelo's choice of words though his younger brother was not deterred. "But Raphael feels like an even bigger bag of dicks, I bet."

Leonardo looked back down on the first floor and Donatello was still sitting there, solemnly watching the door. Michelangelo did the same. "So Don's gonna apologize the second he gets a chance, now that he's not angry anymore. And Raph's probably going to try and run again. But, ya know, eventually. They'll end up hooking up."

Michelangelo wrapped up his story to Leonardo's sigh. "'Cause that's how a love story ends. No matter who tries to stop them or whatever hideous creatures try to eat them, the guy always gets the gal." Michelangelo softly choked on one of his potato chips. "Or um… guy."

"Is that how this is going to end?" Leonardo questioned quietly. He was not completely ready to accept it like Michelangelo, but his baby brother not being completely scarred by the circumstances did help tremendously.

"If Raph gets off his big butt and gets back home, yeah." Michelangelo concluded. His positive attitude was absolutely addictive. Leonardo felt better, though there was still concern of Raphael's location. For the moment, though, he felt content that his family was not tearing apart at the seams.

"Well you can keep sitting up here and being all stalker-like, or you can come down and help me with dinner." Michelangelo offered Leonardo an out, and he reluctantly took it. Even though he deserved his guilt, he just was not ready to leave Michelangelo's basking warmth yet.

Dinner dimmed that warmth though. Their master stared at Raphael's empty chair with sad eyes. Everyone seemed so far down, there was nothing Michelangelo could possibly do to bring the mood back up. Michelangelo did his part. Perhaps it was time Leonardo did his.

The family ate in silence. Donatello and Michelangelo both stared at their plates. Leonardo, on the other hand, was growing tired of Raphael's absence. Night was falling, and he would go find the hothead turtle, if he had to drag his shell back for him.

"You must go find him." Their master and father's voice finally piped up in the silence. Instantly, all three heads before him shot up to hear his words. It was as if Master Splinter had been reading his mind. Maybe things were falling back in line after all.

Leonardo stood up, his chair scratching the floor behind him. "I was speaking to Donatello, my son." Splinter softly said.

Donatello's eyes went wide. Leonardo bowed his head, acknowledging his master and sat back down in his chair cautiously. No one else said anything as Donatello quickly stood up from the table, offered his sensei a thoughtful nod, and dashed off towards the lair exit after obtaining his bo.

And then it was quiet again. Leonardo swam in his thoughts, not quite sure why he was passed up when the mission could prove to actually be dangerous.

"Sometimes choices are better left to those involved, my son." Splinter gently added to Leonardo's thicket of thoughts as he slowly stepped away to watch his stories.

The eldest son seemed completely off guard by his father's comment. _How does he always know? _ Leonardo grabbed his head as if it were about to completely screw off his neck. _It had to be some kind of secret ninja psychic meditation._

* * *

Cooling down from last chapter and giving some family insight. Wee..


	21. Purple, Last Chance

**Genesis**

Turtlecest, raphxdon – Because everything has to start somewhere…

Disclaimer: If I owned the turtles, it wouldn't be a kiddie show.

Warnings: turtlecest, yaoi, turtle on turtle action, slash, mature: are you sure you are in the right place? Be weary or your brain might implode.

**Things start turning a bit more mature... this is your second warning!**

Chapter 21 – Purple, Last Chance

* * *

Donatello ran through the sewers like he actually had a clue where he was going. He splashed through familiar territory, his heart jumping each turn as if Raphael would be there, waiting on the other side. But he had no such luck. From habit alone, he stopped at a particular rusty ladder; the ladder the brothers usually took to the surface for any outside exercises. When he made it to the rooftops, he finally stopped.

Because he had no idea where to look for his lone brother. Donatello stole a moment to plan his next actions. Their only close friends on the surface were off enjoying each other in some tropical paradise. All he had left was routine. Donatello could pray Raphael was a creature of habit and stuck to their usual patrol areas. It was his only lead, and after the short contemplation, Donatello jumped into action, running the patrol set forth years ago.

Donatello minded his surroundings carefully as he jumped the rooftops, but he could not help his mind from wandering. He thought about Raphael having a secret hiding place up on the surface. Chances were, he would not find it, but it was something he could understand. If Raphael had a sanctuary, it was probably similar to his laboratory. Secure and private. And it was out of the lair. There was space. Freedom. The air was not humid and gross. Donatello imagined that Raphael's secret place must be lovely.

He wondered if Raphael even liked the lair, as he paused to not alert a group of kids in an alley to his presence. A cold reminder of the day before sent a chill down his limbs. Would he ever come back on his own if Donatello did not find him? _Of course he would. _ The turtle tried to shake the negativity out of his head. It would do him no good. Donatello continued to trek forward once he snuck past the children. Raphael would come back because it was his home. Even if Donatello was a jerk.

Donatello had his chance, and he blew it, hard. He crashed and burned. And finally Raphael got a taste of his own rejection. Undoubtedly, Raphael took that rejection to depths beyond Donatello's understanding. Sure, the hothead deserved it, in a way, as Donatello had been treated similar more than once. But Donatello did not convey his true feelings. He denied Raphael purely from anger. The majority of his feelings wanted to see Raphael scorned in that one vengeful moment. He instantly regretted it. Anger was not something he was used to dealing with, and his wallows and lessons were getting Raphael stuck in the crossfire.

Donatello quickened his pace as if his chances of happiness with Raphael were fading in the distance. He had to find him. Somehow Donatello knew this was his last chance. If he could not keep Raphael from running; if he could not find him at all; if Raphael refused Donatello once more, it would be the end. But at least he deserved the meeting. The one last chance. Donatello hoped to find him. Hope was all he had left.

A light in the distance caught his eye as a new found beacon of hope. There was a single light on inside Casey's tiny apartment. Though easily nothing, it could be the hint he was searching for. Donatello's eyes focused clearly on that one light despite all the other sources around him. Like a memory, it occurred to him that Raphael's real safe haven had always been with his human companion. His best friend. _Of course_. Raphael's old habits died hard, and even though Casey was away, he was probably there, sitting on the couch, staring at some boring fight on television. Or in reality, staring at a wall trying to figure out what to do about Donatello. Donatello's heart filled with a surge of energy. Finding Raphael in New York was like searching for a needle in a haystack. If his guess was successful, perhaps they were really meant to be.

The acrobatic Donatello stealthily made his way towards Casey's small window seal. The apartment was small and sadly, on the market, as Casey was moving into April's place. Not an easy change for Raphael, no doubt, who's asylum was about to disappear. Donatello took one in one big breath before he peaked into the closed window.

Raphael was there. Standing next to the other window, across the small living area, sais in hand. He was about to go, or had at least been contemplating leaving. Donatello was not sure. But this was his opening; his final chance that in some glorious grace he had been allotted. He could not blow it this time.

The window slid open easier than it would seem. Casey kept the kitchen window unlocked for his friends. There being no real fire escape or railing of any sort outside his kitchen meant no burglar would ever dare risk it for the bounty of this bachelor pad. Really, nothing was worth taking, Donatello thought as he slid it open.

Raphael cringed but did not turn around. He knew it was Donatello. Instead, he placed his sais back on his belt and unlatched the lock on the second window. He was going to run again. Maybe he would go home. Whether or not that was the case, Donatello could wait no longer for his confrontation. Confidence was fading fast in his brother's presence. It was now or never.

"Wait." Donatello climbed through completely and tossed his bo staff onto the well used couch nearby. He closed the window behind him. Donatello was in a hurry, but still careful not to trip into the sink and make a fool of himself. He heard the latch give way on the window near Raphael. "Please."

Raphael's movements froze, but he did not turn around. His face seemed focused on the window seal before him. "This needs ta end." Raphael called out. He came off so emotionless, but Donatello sensed that was not the case. There was no fire or anger behind his words. He was just… empty.

"Raph…" Donatello moved towards his brother cautiously. His insides were churning painfully, but he had to ignore it. Only one shot. He would have been better off not realizing that, on hindsight. He stopped closer, but not too close. In his voice, he urged Raphael to turn around. And his message was successfully translated.

Raphael would not look Donatello directly in the face, though. He kept staring straight; just above Donatello's head. But at least he got his attention. Donatello had to plea his case again, and hope for the best. It was all he had. Donatello's walls had crumbled and he could only tell Raphael the utter truth.

"I'm sorry about before." He started with the apology he practiced all day. "I was hurt. But I should not have lashed at you, when you wanted to tell me how you felt." The room went silent. Raphael did not reply. Donatello continued. "I know it's not easy for you. And I did not mean that you were weak. I was just... angry."

Raphael was silent. His face was cold. He was listening but had no reaction. Donatello's confidence was wavering. "I want to give this a try. This mess, I know it sucks, but I think despite everything, we can be together." Still nothing. Donatello nervously grinded his teeth. He assumed the arctic display was Raphael's attempt to be strong. But that stubbornness could still end it all tonight if Donatello could not get through.

"Logically, we're really all we have. This was bound to happen. I know everyone will understand in time, Raph." Donatello's gestures grew more desperate, for some kind of sign; some kind of reaction, but there was nothing. Not even proof he was listening. "We feel for each other, Raph. There is no sound reason to ignore it."

Nothing. Donatello fidgeted with his feet, but never looked away from Raphael. He was not getting through. An extreme anxiety was taking over, and Raphael just stood there. Donatello's heart was wrenching. "We can't put ourselves through this any longer, Raph." Donatello shook his head. "I can't take it anymore."

Silence.

"Say something, Raph." Donatello wondered if he got on his knees and begged, if the situation would be less dire. "Anything." His eyes watered to the brim with desperation. This was pretty much the worst reaction that he could have expected. Raphael's stubbornness would stay with him to the end.

"Raph. This is the last time I will confront you. I promise." His voice was fading. Emotions he had never had the displeasure of feeling were seeping into his head. And they were terrible. He had nothing more to look forward. "This is our last chance. To be together." Donatello's voice cracked at his own words. He was not going to cry, but that did not stop surging emotions that tried to stop his words. Because he did not want to hear them, whether or not they were truthful. It was no ultimatum. It was a fact.

Donatello's cold flesh was warmed by a wave of heat. It was the first indication since he started speaking that he was not alone in the room. But it was not enough to give him any hope. His hope was gone. There was just about nothing left. His mind was drained and he wanted nothing more than to collapse on the floor at Raphael's feet. Donatello never felt so strongly for something or someone in his entire life. But to have his faith go unrewarded, was sure to kill him. He remained standing, though, as he was unwilling to cause such a scene. Not for Raphael's sake, but for his own.

Raphael was completely locked up. There was not a thing Donatello could do other than accept that this was where it all ended. Raphael's stubbornness was answer enough for his feelings. Whether or not there was something there, he was completely unwilling to explore it.

There was nothing more he could do. Donatello's soft eyes searched Raphael for any indication that he should stay, but there was nothing. "Just tell me, Raph. Just tell me how you feel." This was Donatello's last pitched effort as he turned his feet towards the window he originally entered through. He was already planning his entire escape route and determining whether or not the lair would be his home for the night. He could not imagine going home empty handed.

"I…can't." Raphael finally budged. His body seemed to be visibly shaking as he fought himself for control over the situation. No doubt the turtle thought hours over this very moment. His defense merely cracked. Donatello had given Raphael everything he had, and he only slightly fractured the strong willed resistance. It was not broken.

"Just tell me we feel the same." Donatello immediately turned back to Raphael his full attention and moved in a step closer. Optimism was back again, and his blood started pumping quickly through his veins. Light and hope were only short fleeting. The sudden rush on top of all his other emotions just made him feel sick.

Nothing.

"Tell me, show me, anything!" Donatello's insides tied in knots. His brother had already retreated back to his fortress of iron will and Donatello could not stand the pressure any longer.

The emotional turtle could not take it anymore. The urge to scream and cry and bury himself away from anything and everything was just too strong. He needed to be alone now. It was over. Dejected completely, Donatello sighed heavily and turned his attention to the floor. It was time to leave.

Donatello gave up. There was no breaching Raphael.

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I can't imagine Raphael reacting well when he does not have anger to fall back on. That's my take anyway. ~ One chapter to go!


	22. Chapter 22

**Genesis**

Turtlecest, raphxdon – Because everything has to start somewhere…

Disclaimer: If I owned the turtles, it wouldn't be a kiddie show.

Warnings: turtlecest, yaoi, turtle on turtle action, slash, mature: are you sure you are in the right place? Be weary or your brain might implode.

**Things gets pretty graphic in this chapter!  
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**Chapter 22 – Red, Reaction**

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"Tell me, show me, anything!"

Donatello's voice shook his core violently as he wanted nothing more than to chase the pain from his brother's cries. Somehow, his barricade still stood.

And Donatello gave up. He was going to leave. This was the end. It would all be over. Raphael still struggled to stand straight; to stare directly forward, never making eye contact. There was nothing he could actually say to make this moment any different. It was hard enough saying nothing at all, but there were no words he could soften the blow to Donatello. No, rhetoric did not come to him naturally. His tongue was held hostage by logic; his heart stung, but it would soon be over.

Donatello was going to leave. …Raphael did not want him to leave. Not yet.

An internal battle raged on inside him each time he saw another piece of Donatello's hope in him crack off and die. It meant the world to Raphael, to mean so much to his brother; as much as his brother truly meant to him. But he was responsible. Raphael wanted to shed his responsibilities and curl up on the floor and just die, but he stood. Somehow, he remained a solemn statue.

Donatello's eyes were no longer on Raphael, but on his feet instead. Slowly, oh so slowly, the dejected genius's shoulders turned to go. It was hell for Raphael. Everything was so slow. And much too soon. Each moment beckoned him; called to him that it would be the last. Raphael could not stand it.

Raphael's strength wavered for that split moment. His arms dashed out towards Donatello to keep him from leaving. Tightly, Raphael's grip held on to Donatello's arms, just above the elbows. But he said nothing. He was deadly quiet. No matter what commands he sent his throat, not a sound peeped through. At least he could still control himself, even if his voice was under a twisted sense of logic's power.

Donatello's eyes shot back to Raphael's face, but Raphael did not meet them. He was not ready. Everything was happening so fast. He just needed more time to get a hold of himself, and then he would drop his hold on Donatello. Raphael was supposed to be the responsible one. Everyone counted on him to do the right thing.

It was killing him to fight his emotions on this level. Raphael shook; his grip on Donatello was much tighter than would be comfortable, but Donatello did not complain. Donatello said nothing. He just waited. Giving Raphael the time he most certainly needed. Time passed unbeknownst to him.

"I want to be with you, Raph." Donatello said so quietly, Raphael was amazed he even heard it. The soft voice caressed his ears and he felt another tower crumble from his fortress. Still, he had not the strength to respond. Raphael lacked the strength to defy everything he ever knew; his father and eldest sibling. Donatello had somehow found it. And more and more of him was starting to envy the turtle for his discovery.

More time passed. Donatello had saint-like patience. Raphael still felt time slipping by, completely out of his control. He was so lost in himself that the next time Donatello spoke, though much louder, he barely heard him.

"How do you feel, Raphael?" Donatello's voice was soft and alluring. Nothing about it seemed apprehensive. And Raphael's body shook again as he tried so hard to keep his emotions at bay.

Raphael gritted his teeth but no words followed. Completely unexpectedly, a cool hand gently touched his burning face. From instinct alone, his attention shifted down towards Donatello, the culprit.

Donatello's eyes were wide with surprise, actually, from the statue's movement. Raphael held his breath, completely anxious of his fortress's fate. Those chocolate brown eyes started at him, filled to the brim with understanding and compassion. It was a face he never had the pleasure of seeing before; someone staring at him so longingly. Completely accepting of everything he had to offer. What was left of his world completely shattered around him. And there was only Donatello and him in utter blackness.

Still, he had no comforting words to offer Donatello in return. His tongue refused to budge. His eyes, for the first time, conveyed their own message. That of annoyance and frustration. Not because of Donatello, but towards himself. The gentle hand on his face softly cupped his right cheek to comfort. The heat in his face began to melt into Donatello's chilly hand.

Donatello sympathized with him. Raphael knew if he did not get away, it would be an incurable addiction. But just as his features refused to act with Donatello's heartbreaking confession earlier, his body was in no hurry to abandon the soft caresses now.

"If you can't tell me, Raph, you can show me." Donatello shyly stated.

Raphael stared into Donatello's eyes. They were terrified, but hopeful once more. There really was no putting Donatello's light out. The turtle was an optimist to the end. Raphael struggled with himself. More and more of him was crashing, but something still lingered, stopping him from making a move.

He was the responsible one.

Donatello fidgeted for the first time in Raphael's grip. Raphael's heart strings pulled harshly at his own stubbornness and inability to act. This was not how the scene should play out. It should be one way or the other, not dragging poor Donatello through the mud three times over to get his answer. He internally scolded himself.

"Raphie?" Donatello's voice cracked. The hope was falling from his eyes once again. But Raphael knew, then and there, at that very moment, he could not let that happen.

Raphael was fighting a battle he was never meant to win. Emotions always won over Raphael's logical judgment. He wanted nothing more than to protect Donatello, but in the end, his decision was hurting him even more. He had been called upon to react, finally. His body gave him the go. It was all about what his heart wanted, as corrupted logic took the back seat to what he had to worry about first and foremost.

The remainder of Raphael's fortress collapsed as he pulled Donatello close to him, an elbow's length away no longer good enough. Selfish or not, it no longer mattered. Donatello needed him more than ever, and he wanted nothing more than to truly show Donatello how he felt about him.

He lost. But he was never destined to win. There was no force on the world that could have kept him from Donatello forever. He wanted so desperately to tell Donatello that was how he truly felt, but instead, he desperately launched their first kiss, immediately excited to have it returned. Their lips met simultaneously. Who knew how long Donatello had been waiting. Their kiss was deep and emotional. Not a simple peck like most first kisses, oh no. Raphael through himself wholly into his response, trying so hard to show Donatello how much he really did care for him.

Things were growing fuzzy, but the good kind. Raphael felt dizzy; like he was sinking into a peaceful abyss. His actions grew more frantic as he had to have more and more of his brother. His mouth was no longer enough. Passionate kisses were not going to show Donatello how he really felt about him; how far he would go to make him happy. To please him.

Raphael's attention shifted to Donatello's yielding neck. He was as careful as he body would allow with his teeth. He did not wish to be rough with Donatello. And Donatello most certainly did not deserve it. Instead, his tongue lashed out, and was rewarded by surprised moans from his brother. No matter how they both had imagined this moment, neither envisioned it to be so intoxicating. Raphael had no idea it would feel like _this_.

Donatello tasted so good. Raphael thoroughly examined each inch of his neck with his persistent tongue. Raphael's hands began to wonder across his brother's plastron and hidden niches between his body and shell. In turn, Donatello's arms held tightly around Raphael's neck, like he was terrified of falling.

Raphael would have to rectify that fear immediately. With little effort, Raphael swung Donatello around, and pushed his shell against the wall. Raphael then had a new battle to face. Part of him wanted to completely ravage his brother; explore every inch and have Donatello melt in his hands. The other urged him to take things slow. A compromise was in order.

Nothing had ever made Raphael so hard. The experience was absolutely enthralling. Each place his mouth explored, he received a gratified moan from Donatello. Every new territory he claimed, Donatello yielded eagerly. Raphael could not imagine a more rewarding experience, until Donatello's hand gingerly rubbed near Raphael's sensitive bottom plastron. Then, for the first time, an involuntary grunt escaped his own lips. He was surprised by the action, but held it to himself.

His plastron was growing so uncomfortable, that he could not hold himself in it much longer. Donatello's blushing cheeks told Raphael he felt the same. Raphael's rough fingers did their best to coerce Donatello from his shell. Donatello shyly did as he was silently instructed, and despite the wall, still almost fell over when Raphael's strong hand cradled his shaft for the first time. Raphael could not hide his amusement at his brother's struggles to stand up straight. A smirk rode across his face as he rubbed his brother's hard flesh.

Donatello leaned heavily on the wall, trying to keep his attention on Raphael's face, but the simple task was proving to be more difficult as Raphael continued his exhibition with his free hand.

_His face was so…_ Raphael's own throbbing shaft freed itself from his confining plastron, as he was unable to comfortably hold it any longer. Parts of Raphael begged him to take his brother, hard, so that he could experience the release. But Raphael had no intention of following through. This was not about him. Though it felt amazing, he was showing Donatello how much he really meant to him. How he felt. And a quick fuck was not going to cut it.

Donatello broke free of his dependency on the wall and sadly removed himself from Raphael's hand. Raphael's eyes stared hungrily at his brother as Donatello slid down the wall until he was level with Raphael's cock. His brother's eyes glittered with excitement as he prepared Raphael's fully erect penis into his mouth. He slid it in only a little at first, as he was inexperienced. But in a short time, he was taking in more and more, lavishing Raphael with his tongue.

That's when Raphael started to churr. It was a strange noise, they had all heard before, but never from anyone but themselves. Raphael cautiously looked down to Donatello as if the sudden noise from his throat was going to scare him away. Donatello stared back up at him, his eyes glittering with lust, as he continued to explore Raphael's most volatile region with his mouth and sensitive fingers.

Raphael caught his balance by placing his hands flat against the wall in front of him. This was his first blow job, and it was amazing. His face felt flush; he really hoped Donatello had not noticed. His hips begged Raphael to thrust forward, but he controlled himself. Above all else, even his first sexual experience, he was concerned for Donatello and his wellbeing.

His head was growing cloudy with every imaginative way he could repay Donatello the favor. It was like watching porn in room with televisions for walls. And not the amateur shit, either, but the good stuff. Raphael felt a mounting pressure start to build up in his lower region. He had not noticed before, but his breath had started to hitch, and his body felt ready to explode. He wanted Donatello so bad, he could hardly contain himself.

Rather than end their experience now, Raphael pulled himself from Donatello's grip and urged Donatello back to his feet. As Donatello followed, Raphael crushed him back into the wall with his own body, unable to contain the sudden absolute need to feel Donatello again. Two arms wrapped around his neck firmly as they explored each other's mouths again, barely taking time to breathe.

Raphael resisted the urge again to suddenly pound into his brother to get his release. Instead, he lifted Donatello up, this time, moving him along the wall, to a table that used to host stuff now littered all over the floor. It was not important. Nothing was important right now except pleasing Donatello.

Donatello leaned at an angle, his bottom on the table and his back against the wall, staring up at Raphael, possibly nervous about what was going to happen next. But he did not protest. Still, Raphael felt nervous himself. But he wanted Donatello to have all of him. Because he now belonged to Donatello.

But he did not say it. Instead he leaned into the table and Donatello, splitting the turtle's legs to each of his sides. Two arms comfortably rested around his neck again. Raphael planted a few gentle kisses on Donatello's closed mouth. Though Donatello stared at him with complete longing in his eyes, he still seemed nervous. Raphael, in turn, reached behind his head and tugged on the knot to his bandanna to loosen it. One final tug, and he yanked it off, completely exposing himself to Donatello. The act made him feel somewhat shy, but only for a second. In turn, Donatello stared at him with complete devotion, and willingly did the same with his mask.

Raphael was not entirely sure what to do from here, but he refused to seem unconfident. He continued his onslaught of kisses from Donatello's mouth, to his neck once more, this time carefully nipping. Donatello's perky noises threw his concentration into a loop, but the mission was clear. He had to prepare Donatello to take him.

Raphael carefully teased Donatello's tail, an action he knew would be rewarded with more soft mumbles. He stared into Donatello's eyes, searching for his permission to continue. One blink later, Donatello offered him a barely recognizable nod, and Raphael slowly slipped one of his large fingers into Donatello's tight opening.

The turtle squirmed for a moment, but Raphael securely held him still. Donatello squeezed his hold on Raphael, causing him to learn further into him. Raphael heavily breathed on Donatello's neck as he worked carefully to stretch Donatello's opening.

A few minutes later, Raphael was satisfied with his work and Donatello was wriggling closer and closer towards Raphael's exposed cock. He wanted it. Raphael was even more turned on, if it was possible.

Raphael aligned himself lifted his face so that he and Donatello could make eye contact once more. Donatello's lustful gaze begged Raphael to continue.

Raphael thought about all Donatello meant to him; that his brother was willing to go so far to please him as well. "Hold on ta me." Raphael broke his inability to speak. He wanted Donatello to know what he was thinking. About how Raphael's world was revolving around him. "I won't hurt ya." It was the closest he could muster.

Donatello held onto Raphael tightly, burying his head into Raphael's shoulder. Raphael only hoped his true terms were heard.

Raphael rubbed the pre-cum generously around his own shaft. The natural lubricant was all they had at the moment. Slowly, Raphael pushed himself passed resisting skin. Donatello's grip on him did not ease. He then pushed in another inch, and he felt his younger brother shake. Raphael's body told him to fuck Donatello's brain's out, but the shaking kept him in line. The resistance cleared his head.

"S'ok. I got you." Raphael quietly said as he pushed himself in further. This time, as half of him was buried in his brother's soft, warm hole, he grunted as a wave of pleasure swept through him. Donatello's hold did not relinquish.

Another inch, and he found himself on the brink of losing that control. The tight embrace around his member was almost too much. Donatello never protested, though. He held on, burying himself on Raphael's arms. Raphael moved again, and this time, he pushed all the way in. Donatello noticeably flinched and Raphael remained still.

A moment later, Raphael was carefully pulling himself back, but preparing to thrust again. His body screamed at him to push harder when he re-entered, but he declined.

Raphael pulled out and comfortably slipped back in. This was heaven. Donatello's grip had even loosened, as Raphael sought a pleasant pattern.

"Oh ga.." Donatello piped up for only a moment and then buried himself back into Raphael's arm. Raphael's full confidence was restored, though.

Raphael found his groove as he moved in and out of Donatello at a medium pace. With one arm, he reached around to hold Donatello's head and to pull him closer. With the other, he reached in between them and toyed with Donatello's cock. Though not fully erect because of Raphael's intrusion of his back door, Raphael sought to fix that.

When he first seized Donatello's cock, the turtle jumped at the touch. Raphael gently began to stroke it at the same pace he entered Donatello. Raphael couldn't help but to mumble his own satisfaction, now that Donatello was writhing in pleasure. A soft churr filled the air on occasion. Raphael was most pleased.

Who knew Donatello was so squirmy?

The notion sat just fine with Raphael as he pumped a little harder into Donatello's ass. Raphael wanted to race to his climax, but he maintained his steady movement. Donatello was going to cum before him. Raphael would make sure Donatello knew how he truly felt by making Donatello feel just as enraptured.

Donatello's movements became more sporadic. If he was speaking English, Raphael could not tell. But whatever he was saying, it was forcing Raphael into an early climax. Who knew gibberish could be so hot? Raphael struggled to maintain himself, while picking up the pace. He wanted to see Donatello writhe under him in absolute pleasure; feel Donatello breathe heavily on his skin, completely out of breath to heave; Lay there, wordless but gratified.

"Raphie.. " Donatello sounded so tired, even though Raphael was doing most of the heavy lifting. "Please don't stop." Donatello's head buried back into Raphael's shoulder and Raphael shoved harder into his brother. "Please don't stop." He said again, extremely muffled and distracted. He continued his little chant, much to Raphael's enjoyment.

Raphael continued to stroke his brother's penis, to the same tempo he pounded his opening. His own climax would come soon. Donatello looked so sexy wrapped in a ball on the table below him, clinging to him for dear life. How he could deny this for so long, he had no idea. But he arrived at his conclusion, possibly thinking about it for the pure distraction to keep from cumming to early. This was what he truly wanted. Moral or not, Donatello was his; he was Donatello's. It was too late for any opinions anyway. Whatever happened now, he would be responsible for it.

A responsibility he was more than willing to take.

"Raph, I'm so close." Donatello's chant changed and Raphael leaned into Donatello's body fully now, thrusting with his full body strength. "Raphie. Raphie! Mmph..Raph." Donatello squealed. Raphael's hand, now completely lathered in pre-cum continued to force Donatello to his blissful release.

Not a moment too soon, as Donatello's convulsing body sent Raphael over the edge. His orgasm hit him like nothing he had ever experienced before. The power of it nearly knocked him off his feet. Unfettered energy surged through his limbs and body as collapsed on top of Donatello below him. His brother welcomed him down with open arms as they both laid there in complete stillness, riding out the remainder of their climactic finale.

Raphael felt Donatello's arms tighten around him as the elated feelings fleeted his body. Raphael swallowed deeply before he finally made eye contact again with his brother, now lover.

"Are you going to run away?" Donatello's voice would have made a weaker man cry.

Raphael felt himself involuntarily hug Donatello closer to his chest as well from the idea of suddenly being away from him. The thought completely devastated his insides. "That ain't gonna happen." He gracelessly said, aggravation still tacked on from the thought. "Though I guess we're done bein' brothers." The decision was made. They were brothers no longer.

Donatello's smile brightened Raphael's mood again. It was so strange how his… once bother could influence him so strongly. But he concluded it was not necessarily a bad thing.

Donatello dreamily stared at Raphael as if still taking in the sudden change of status.

"Every ending has a new beginning."

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Sex fixes everything!

In my world, this is about as emotional as two dudes get. So no "I love you's" and junk. I like the ending. It's a bit cliffish, but I figure the climax is a good place to cut it. Heh heh... climax.


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